Another Road
by KyMahalei
Summary: New Chapter: In which Legolas is amazing, and we bid farewell. Thanks to Elfscribe and the lizards. MEFA 2011 First Place Winner
1. Chapter 1

Another Road

Some crossroads can be seen from afar, planned for, longed for, and seen with eager anticipation. Others are thrust upon us unexpectedly and we wake one day to find that a threshold has been irrevocably crossed. For better or worse, we must make our way onward, following a new path with new destinations.

I suppose things might have been different if my mother had survived the weariness that so often comes with bearing a child. I am told that even though she was of the woods, a Laegren, she bled greatly at my birth and soon became too despondent to care for me. My father, who had eagerly looked forward to the delights of fatherhood and family, was quite overwhelmed by the situation. Tied as I was to my mother's heart, I wept almost without ceasing, which only added to my father's distress. As time went on, it became evident that my mother was fading. Her milk dried up which added hunger to my list of woes. Eventually one of my father's advisors suggested that I be placed with my mother's people for awhile. My mother's sister had also recently given birth to a son. I had not yet reached two months when I was taken from my father's halls to be nursed by myaunt for a time. I did not return home for many years.

My early days were far from idle. When I lost the last of my milk teeth, I was finally allowed to climb as I pleased without supervision. I would wake, often at the cusp of dawn, to clamber to the very top of the great maple tree that housed our talan. From there I could lean into the gently swaying branches and look across the slumbering canopy of the forest, watching to the east for the first signs of the new day. As the stars dimmed into the gray-blue expanse, an easing of the darkness crept into the eastern horizon. Song by single song, the hundreds of birds that dwelt in the dark folds of the trees would add their voices to the slow crescendo of morning song. The song itself was rich and varied, as though to herald the beauty of the day to come. It continued unchecked until the sun crested the horizon and then, as though by some unseen hand, it subsided and stilled.

Within the stillness was the unspoken promise of the new day. Often I would grasp more tightly the branches in my hands, and stand as tall as I could to scan the vast awning of the heavens above, trying to discern the tone of the hours to come. During the early days of summer, the sky was usually clear, save for the rosy glow of the sun peering from the east. Sometimes, fluffy pink ribbons of clouds were strewn about the expanse. On hotter days, especially in the late summer, the colors of dawn were muted by a warm haze that settled as mist between the boughs of the trees below. Oh, how I loved to watch the day unfold! And just as my attentions grew weary and began to wander, I would hear the morning songs of my extended family greeting the dawn with melodies of pure light and clarity. Their resonance never failed to lift my heart.

Slowly I would breathe deep cleansing breathes and sing my own song of welcome to the new day. It was not for others that I sang, nor even for myself. I sang because the Song welled from my heart and would not be silenced.

If I stayed long enough at my perch, the smell of morning fires would reach me. On this particular day the sun promised to shine brightly and gently. Swiftly, I made my way to the ground and ran lightly past Nathel's fire. Then I bounded happily down the steep slope to the river's edge.

I paused when I saw my uncle's still form in the shallows of the river. Nador got up as early as I, but he preferred to welcome the day wading into the waters of the river to catch fish for breakfast. He would situate himself near one of the quiet pools by the bank of the river and stand, perched like a great heron, waiting for an unsuspecting fish to swim by. At some point, a fish would come near and in a flash his hand would dart below the surface and grab the creature just behind the gills.

I crept to the edge of the bank until I was sure that Nador knew that I was there. With a grin, he plunged his hand into the water and, in a single motion, threw a large blue gill towards me. I laughed and caught the fish, then drew my dagger to kill it quickly. My uncle's attentions went back to the water while I cleaned the fish, tossing the entrails back into the water as a food offering to the fish that remained.

"Well, _nethben_," he said, after a second fish had been killed and cleaned, "have you woken the birds this morning?"

I smiled sheepishly. No doubt the sound of my singing had reached his ears.

As we arrived at the morning fire, I could tell that my cousin Brethilas wasn't up yet. I quickly climbed to the _talan_ to check on him. He was surely the soundest sleeper of the family. His dark hair spilled across the mat, his eyes were on his dreams and his mouth was open slightly as though he were about to speak. He looked so peaceful lying there. I could hardly stand it.

Noiselessly, I turned and climbed to a broad branch that overlooked my cousin. In the spring, the maple seeds grow embedded in a pair of fixed wings we called spinners. I grabbed a handful of these as I climbed. It took several tries, but eventually I mastered the art of releasing the spinners so that they would drop gracefully onto Brethilas's sleeping form. A full dozen had landed on him without result, and I had all but given up on waking him, when one chanced to land in his open mouth. With a start and a snort, Brethilas abruptly sat up and spit the offending seed from his mouth. He looked at the seed for a moment, then looked straight up at me, a look of annoyance on his face.

I stifled the temptation to chortle, and settled for a gentle laugh instead. "Good morning, sleepyhead!" I cried, "I was afraid you would lose the whole day to sleep."

"I was doing just fine without your help," he retorted.

"Well, if you don't like eating spinners for breakfast, I think that the fish is almost done cooking. Get up now, before the day wanders away."

Brethilas could never hold a grudge. He grinned broadly and swung down from the _talan_. I followed close at his heels.

Fresh grilled fish washed down with morning tea is definitely the best breakfast in the world. Nathel didn't season the breakfast foods as she did the supper dishes, so the full flavor of the meat was there to be savored. Barely had the fish time to cool before I was digging at my portion with my little dagger. Soon even that was not quick enough, and I burned my fingers taking bits of the meat and popping it into my mouth.

"Slow down, child," chided Nathel, "If you savor the meat, you will enjoy it more."

"Yes, Nathel," I replied, and tried my best to comply with her wishes.

I was the first to reach the gardens that morning. The field stretched like a warm brown blanket across a clearing in the woods. Our community didn't rely heavily on gardening, but there were nearly fifty of us to feed and many of the vegetables that we grew could be harvested and stored for the winter. The daily tending was rotated among the households on a regular basis, and all shared in the bounty at the end of the season.

I noticed with satisfaction that there was a strong green blush to the soil this morning. The seeds which we had planted but a fortnight ago were already breaking through the earth. I wanted to go straightaway to examine them, but Nathel made us stand and center ourselves before going to the plants. "Good singing comes with good listening," she reminded us. I squirmed, and Brethilas gave me a sidelong glance, but we quickly settled ourselves.

Breathing in I could smell the rich moistness of the soil, echoing its season long ago when it rested deep under the waters of the river. The smell of spring, of new plants unfolding was also there.

Breathing out I tried to let go of the sensations of breakfast that still lingered in my mouth, and I tried to distance myself from Brethilas, who was ever near to me in thought.

Breathing in I could smell the tang of the morning air not yet fully warmed by the sun. I could hear the river sliding along its course and hear the sound of two redwing blackbirds fighting over their territory.

Breathing out I let go of sense of self and made ready to receive the Song of the young plants.

Breathing in, I allowed my heart to draw near to them as they pushed hesitant shoots through the rich thick soil. I could almost feel the warmth of the sun drenching the timid leaves with life giving light. I drank of the sunlight with them.

Breathing out, I closed my eyes and drew my own heart closer to the Song.

WhenNathel was ready, she began to sing. Her voice was soft and low, reminiscent of a mourning dove. She sang a song of awakening and good health. As soon as I felt secure in her rhythm I also sang, and Brethilas soon joined in. The melody tumbled a bit, and Nathelreached out her hands to join ours. Soon the song was righted and we dropped hands and set to our work. We did not touch any of the plants; they were still too young and tender, but we stopped at each one and set two fingers beside the new shoot, offering support and comfort. Gently we pulled out the few weeds that had also started to grow. When we finished singing to one part of the garden, we changed key and began a new song in another.

Before the morning was done we had sung to nearly all of the plants. The afternoon's work would be much quicker that the morning's, and then perhaps there would be time for play. I brushed the dirt off my hands, then set my hands in the small of my back and stretched. Young elves, I decided, were not intended to stay folded over plants all day, and I hungrily looked forward to lunch.

Brethilas ran to me and hit me lightly on the shoulder. "Are you too stiff to run, cousin? The first to the _talan _gets the larger slice of cheese!" With that he turned and began to run.

Brethilas had enough energy for two elves, but I have always had the longer legs. At first it was hard to run on the soft turned soil, but as soon as we got to the firmer ground of the forest I was able to take the lead. Brethilas did his best to keep up, but soon realized that he was at a disadvantage. The path to the _talan _followed the curves of the land. It would be much shorter if he took to the tress.

In a flash Brethilas was clambering up a white pine, headed for the canopy. I debated my own course for a moment and decided to follow. Unfortunately, in my hurry I grabbed for the branches of a tamarack pine and was well on my way to the top when I brushed against the trunk of the tree. It was heavily laden with the late season sap of that species. My leggings escaped unscathed, but the front of my tunic and several thick strands of my hair were coated. As quickly as I could, I disengaged from the sap and slid back down to the forest floor. I was too distracted to run the canopy safely, so I set out in a long strided gait to home.

So intent was I on winning the race that I did not see the horse until I was almost upon it. I had just rounded the corner to the north of our clearing when I caught sight of her, a beautiful grey mare with black mane and tail. She must have been twelve hands high – much taller that the little horses that we kept in the village.

I stopped in my tracks, not wanting to startle the animal. I couldn't keep from breathing a bit heavily, for I had run quite a ways. I opened my mouth wide so that the air could move silently. The horse did not move, but turned her head to look at me with dark eyes flecked with curious amusement.

"Eh_,_" I murmured at last, not wanting her to be frightened. "You are so beautiful." I wanted to pet her, but my hands were quite sticky. Nador kept a solution that would remove the sap, but I wondered if the horse would still be there when I returned. I stuck two of my fingers in my mouth to try and suck the sap off of them, when I happened to look to my left. There, at the head of the path leading to our fire was the form of a stranger.

He was no taller that Nador, but he was dressed in fine clothing. His tunic was of dark green laced with silver embroidery on the collar and cuffs. There was more embroidery on the hem; a colorful floral motif. His brown leggings were closely tailored to his legs, and even though it promised to be a warm day, his feet were enclosed in boots of light leather. When I finally drew my gaze to his face, I saw that the stranger braided his dark hair as though for a ceremony. His skin was as fair as goat's milk, and his eyes were bright with a combination of surprise and delight.

"_Mae govenan,"_ he said. His voice was smooth and strong, "I came to get something, but if you are busy making friends with Aduial I can come again later."

I was thrown so off balance by the sudden appearance of the stranger and his horse that I could do no more than stare dumbly at the pair. I didn't even have the presence of mind to pull my fingers from my mouth.

"No, wait a moment," the stranger was saying, "I have something that you might enjoy. " He crossed to the horse and retrieved a small bag from one of the panniers that was draped across the horse's back. Quickly he untied the drawstring and pulled open the neck of the bag. I tilted my head to try and see what might be inside. The stranger caught my gaze and smiled, "Here, have a honey cake," he said, pulling forth something that looked like bread. It was much thicker than the bread we ate, and its surface was shiny with honey. I could see nuts peeking out from the top of the morsel. The stranger held the cake out to me, but I was too shy to come and take it from his hand.

Just then I heard Brethilas drop lightly from a tree a little ways away. The horse startled and the stranger spun to find the source of the sound. Swiftly, I snatched the cake from his hand and ran for the safety of the trees.

When I drew near to the family fire some time later, the stranger must have told Nador of my distress, for I could smell the apple solvent that would dissolve the sap on my hair and clothing. Nathel was there, towel in hand. Nador was standing behind the fire, looking less than pleased. The stranger was sitting on Nador's log. He was smiling, but I could sense he was less than comfortable. I could not see Brethilas. I knew he was nearby, doubtless watching to see what was going on. I hesitated to step forward. The honey cake had been delicious, but I knew that I had been rude to take it so abruptly.

"Come now," said Nathel, sensing my presence "You will gain nothing by waiting." I knew her words to be true, so I shuffled slowly into the clearing. I kept my eyes on Nathel, intentionally turning my back to the stranger. Nathel's strong hands grasped my tunic and pulled it over my head. Strands of my hair got caught in the shirt, and I had to wait patiently for Nathel to pull them off of the sap. "Here, fingers first, little one," she said, thrusting my hands into the pail of soapy liquid. The smoothness of the solvent felt good against my skin and I scrubbed my hands earnestly.

"The king wishes him returned as soon as possible," said the stranger, evidently picking up on a conversation that I had interrupted.

"And why should the king wish that?" said Nador, with thinly disguised anger, "It has been many years, without a single word. Now you are here to say that he wants him delivered forthwith? Was there no more to this message?"

"Only to say that he appreciates the kindnesses you have shown and the love you have given, and if there is aught you require by way of thanks, to not hesitate to make your desires known."

"He should come and face us himself," said Nathel, her voice was tight. "Here little one," she said more gently and she sat me on the ground and immersed the ends of my hair in the solvent. She turned again to the stranger, "You tell him to come and talk with us. He is one of our family. We will not deny his request if he comes in love. How can he send a stranger to ask this thing?"

The stranger sighed, "The days grow darker, my friend. You know that. He gave you the child because it was the only way to assure that his son would live a happy life. And so he has. But the needs of the kingdom weigh heavily on Thranduil. He is often called these days to battle the darkness, sometimes at great risk to himself. He could not come right now, but he worries. He worries for his people and for his son," the stranger paused, as though considering his next words, "If something should happen to the king, you know that we would need a prince ready to inherit the crown."

"You want him back because you have a use for him now." Nador almost spat the words, "Go and tell our king, tell _your_ king, that a hammer is for using, a pot is for using, with kind permission a goat or a horse is for using, but a child is not for using."

It was silent for a time after that. The sound of the water splashing in the pail as Nathel washed the solvent through my hair was the only sound I heard. Nathel dipped the edge of the towel in the liquid and washed my chest and shoulders. Then she took a brush and began working it through my hair, taking care not to pull at the tangles.

Facing the stranger as I was, I could tell that he was most unhappy. At one point our eyes met, and I could see both compassion and frustration in his gaze.

"Why don't you ask Legolas what he thinks?" asked the stranger, leaning forward.

I looked at Nathel and Nador confused, "Why would I know what to do about this child?" I said at last.

The stranger sat back slowly and shook his head in disbelief, "He does not know?" he asked.

Nador scowled, "Legolas, go wash your hair in the river," he commanded.

"But Nathel was brushing it," I began, but then I thought better of it. Quickly I left the clearing and headed to the river. I paused as the voices continued.

"He knows that Nador and I are his aunt and uncle," said Nathel, "and that his beloved mother faded when he was born."

"And his father?"

"His father abandoned him at birth, " said Nathel, "We decided it was best not to speak of him at all. What good would it do for Legolas to know that he is the child of the king?"

When I returned to the clearing some time later, I could tell that the winds of the argument had shifted. Nathel was sitting near her cooking stone. Her hands were in her lap and it looked as though she had been crying. Nador was seated next to her, rubbing her back with one hand. He looked stern and withdrawn. The stranger was much less tense, and I was grateful to see the sober look in his eyes. He had won the argument, but he was sensitive to the sorrow of my family.

When I joined the somber gathering at the fire, Nador said, "Legolas, you are to go with Galion tomorrow at dawn. We will get your things together this afternoon, and you can make your farewells at dinner."

"Yes, Nador." I had so many questions in my heart that there were not words for. I crossed the clearing at sat at Nador's feet. Nathel scooped me into a warm embrace. I could tell that she was frightened and upset. I wrapped my arms around her tightly and breathed deeply. The light woodsy scent of my Nathel is one that I will never forget.

The next hours passed as in a dream. Nathel took me back down to the river and washed my hair again, this time with a cherry bark solution that made it soft and shiny. Then she brushed it much longer than usual until it glistened in the afternoon sun. Between the dirt and the sap my outfit from the day was all but ruined. My other tunic was older and a little worn, but it would have to do. I was happy to wear my other leggings as well. They were getting a little short, but they were the same color as Nador's and I always felt proud when I wore them. I had no personal belongings to bring with me, save for my dagger and a smooth stone with a hole in it that I had found one day near the river.

I don't remember much of the farewell dinner, except that it was much more subdued than usual. I do remember every word that my cousin said to me as we lay tumbled together for the last time on our talan. The air was warm and we welcomed the cool breezes that flowed up from the river. The stars were brilliant that night, as though to bid a farewell of their own. . .

I was frightened and proud as I was placed in front of Galion on the horse early the next morning. I could tell from the dampness in the air that it was going to be a hot and humid day. Briefly I wondered about the welfare of the little plants I was leaving behind. I envisioned them in my mind opening their precious leaves to the world that awaited them. I thought, too, of my perch atop the great maple tree. Aduial was tall, but I had been ever so much higher the morning before.

Nador and Nathel were standing side by side, and Nathel was holding Brethilas close as Galion set Aduial on her course. It occurred to me as the distance between us grew that my family stood close together, and I was no longer among them.

Nador – non cannon, uncle

Nathel – non cannon, aunt

Mae govenan – a greeting

Talan – a flet or platform built in a tree. In this story it is used for sleeping

Nethben – little one


	2. Chapter 2

I confess I had a hard time sitting still on the horse that morning, but Galion was most patient with me. For one thing, I had never needed to ride before. The little horses of the Village were mostly used to help with the work of farming. While we did take occasion to share festivals and high days with other villages, there wasn't often cause to use horses for transport.

We filled the morning hours with happy silence. I was kept quite busy looking at the sights of the road. I had never been far from home and it amazed me to think of the number of trees and branches and leaves that we passed.

"Galion?" I asked at length, after we had put some miles between us and the village, "Why does my father want to see me now?" The word father fell awkwardly from my tongue, "Why did he send me away?"

Galion was silent for a moment, "Legolas, you must understand that your father loved your mother very much. When your mother faded, he felt sure that he was in part to blame. He set you aside so that he could deal with his grief. He did not want you damaged by his sorrow."

"But why do I need to return now? Is he done grieving for my mother?"

"He's better than he was," said Galion, "but I'll warrant he'll be a lot happier with you at his side. You are family, after all."

I wasn't sure what to make of that, so I returned to my silence.  
We only stopped for a short while to eat a simple lunch of cheese and bread washed down with tepid water from Galion's water skin. I spent a few minutes touching the trees nearby, feeling the strangeness of their sturdy trunks, and the open embrace of their lower branches. I wondered who sang to them at night.

In spite of the excitement of the journey, I found that my full stomach and the rhythm of the horse was making me quite drowsy after lunch. Rather than have me fall from our mount, Galion turned me sidesaddle and had me lean against him. We rode thus for some time. I was soon lulled into dreams of dragonflies and trees and slept well for some time. I awoke with a peculiar thought.

"Galion?" I asked suddenly, "Men sleep with their eyes closed, do they not?"

"That is what I have heard," he said, looking at me with pleased amusement.

"Then how can they see their dreams?"

The older elf shrugged, and chuckled, "That is a very good question, my prince. One I think you should ask the king himself."

I was pensive for the moment, but soon my curiosity intervened again. "Has the king seen mortals that he would know such things, or does he know such things just because he is king?"

Galion laughed out loud then, and set me straight upon the horse. "He has treated often enough with men from the Dale, walked with the woodsmen and dealt with a fair share of trespassers. I imagine somewhere along the way he might have found an answer for your question. If not, you'll have to find a Man and ask them yourself."

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't think I'd ever want to meet a Man," I replied, "They seem like such strange creatures."

"Well, I hope you're up to meeting a couple more elves," commented Galion, "It looks as though your escort has caught up with us at last."

In a moment I could sense the rhythm of hoof beats well ahead of us on the road. The trees were too dense to see too far ahead, but soon I could see the flash of several elves dressed in dark green livery coming closer. Galion reigned Aduial to a stop and waited.

It was the first I had ever seen Sindarin elves, save for the merchant who visited the village every half year. Compared to the Silvans, they were lean and long limbed. Their dark hair contrasted strikingly with their pale skin. They wore their braids tight against their heads, and wore their hair short, hardly past their shoulder blades. As they drew near I could see that they were not happy. The scowls on their faces changed to amazement as they caught sight of me. They came to a stop a few paces away and in a single fluid movement, the three dismounted and bowed deeply before me.

"Allow me to present Laeglas Thranduilion," said Galion with a thread of pride in his voice, "He goes by the name Legolas."

"Well met, Prince Laeglas," said the tallest at last. I was unsure how to respond, so I remained silent. The elf turned his attentions to Galion. His words were kind, but he was clearly annoyed. "I am glad that you have found the prince so quickly, Galion. How did you know that he would be wanted at the Halls?"

"It's my job to anticipate the king's needs," said Galion smoothly, "I am his steward, after all."

"It would have been safer if you had waited for a guarded escort," replied the elf.

"The prince is safe with me. The king honors the privacy of the wood-elves. It would have been divisive to send soldiers to the village. Now we have our prince, we need only get him quickly home." Abruptly, Galion turned his attention to me.

"Come, Legolas. Let me introduce you to three of the finest guards of the realm. This is Captain Thalion of the third company. He is in charge of the Halls of Thranduil and its environs. Dolnor and Eluvorn are brothers." The three bowed before me again.

I was most discomfited and confused at the course of the conversation. I was not comfortable being referred to as Laeglas. That was not my name, but I was not brave enough to tell three adults that they were mistaken. I found myself leaning heavily against Galion. He wrapped one arm protectively around me and when the three soldiers turned to remount, he gave me a surreptitious hug.

I had hoped to climb to the crown of the trees and explore when we made camp that evening, but the soreness from riding all day nearly crippled me. Dolnor had a small sack in his pannier filled with medicines and unguents. He brewed me some rosemary tea laced with oil of vitrol and honey to ease the pain. Galion encouraged me to walk a bit to stretch the muscles, but eventually he had me lie down on a bedroll where he massaged my sore limbs and backside with his strong and nimble fingers.

I did my best not to complain, but I was thankful when Eluvorn returned from a short foray with game for dinner. I lay on my belly and watched him butcher the two wild hens. He had them trimmed out and on the spit in a matter of minutes. Quickly he rubbed them with oil and stuffed the carcasses with sage, onion grass and some early mushrooms then set them on the fire to cook. The succulent aroma of fresh meat soon filled the air. While it cooked, he collected a variety of spring greens and mixed them lightly with some herbs from his pack. He also drew forth a loaf of dark bread and a wedge of light yellow cheese wrapped in wax. These were sliced and placed on trenchers beside the salad.

I watched Eluvorn intently. I had never seen an ellon cook before. In the village, most of the women were hearth maidens, and took pride in tending the gardens, doing the cooking and performing most of the domestic chores. The huntsmen garnered the meat for the community and prepared the furs and hides for trade for those things which we could not provide for ourselves. Eluvorn seemed quite proficient at the task. Galion saw the curiosity in my eyes.

"Does something bother you, my prince?"

"How is it that Eluvorn cooks so well?"

"Do not say that he cooks well until you have tried the food. But every company must have its cook else how would they eat on the trail?"

I thought of the meager rations that I had eaten when on the trail with Nador. On the few occasions I had been allowed to join him for the hunt, we had lived on unseasoned meat and way bread. Perhaps there was merit in having a cook along.

My appetite was whetted by the adventures of the day, and I made short work of Eluvorn's fare. While I was eating I was tuned to the conversation of my elders. They spoke of people and places that I knew nothing of. After a time, the conversation turned to me. I sat as unobtrusively as possible, willing myself to disappear.

"We should arrive by late afternoon tomorrow," Captain Thalion was saying, "but how to get the prince into the Halls unseen is going to be a trick."

"Would a child in the custody of the king's guard draw unwelcome attention?" asked Dolnor.

"It would not, save for the glorious crown of golden hair that marks him as his father's own," responded Galion.

"Perhaps a cloak then," said the captain, "that would cover his clothing as well."

"I'll loan him mine, although it is far too large for him," said Galion.  
"That will have to do," said the captain. "We'll leave at first light."

I quietly finished my meal and set the trencher aside. I did not much like the idea of being wrapped in a stranger's cloak for a day. I liked even less the idea that I would need to be slipped into Thranduil's Halls unseen.

When time came to clean up after the meal, the brothers gathered the pots and trenchers and headed for a small stream that ran just southwest of our campsite. I fell in behind them, eager to look around. Galion moved as to stop me, but Eluvorn intervened.

"No, let the prince come with us. You have had him to yourself all day. We will be back shortly."

After supper and a rest, my limbs felt more limber. I followed the two through the low underbrush to the water. Eluvorn handed me the trenchers to scrape and clean.

"You can't do that!" protested Dolnor. "He's the prince!"

I laughed and squatted down by the water, "It's no trouble, Nathel would say that it's a small price for good food." I scrubbed the first trencher with a handful of river sand. "Although I think there are enough to share."

Dolnor took two of the trenchers and began to clean them. "You don't act like a prince," he commented.

"Now who is lacking in manners?" chided Eluvorn, "You'll have to forgive my brother, my lord, he was raised in a barn."

"And you weren't?" said Dolnor, scooping water with a trencher and splashing it towards Echlllen. Unfortunately, about half of the water landed on me.

Dolnor's eyes grew wide. "Oh, my lord!"

I didn't hesitate, but scooped a satisfying amount of water up with the trencher in my hands. I aimed well and it hit Dolnor full in the face. Just to make sure that Eluvorn didn't feel left out, I aimed my next scoop at him. The elves were obviously my elders, but they were not too old to play. Eluvorn had excellent aim, but Dolnor was quick.

Finally I scampered out into the shallow river, counting on the fact that the brothers would not want to get their boots wet. The water was deep near the center, and had it been any warmer I would have gone for a swim. I laughed and taunted them from a rock in the center of the stream. They looked at one another and were planning an attack when our attentions were distracted by the sound of crows cawing as they flew overhead.

I looked up to note the birds when I felt a wash of darkness spill through my spirit. With each cry of the crows I felt a tearing at my heart. I fell to my knees and covered my ears. Dolnor and Eluvorn were at my side in a moment, holding my shoulders and guiding me firmly to the bank of the river. They were sobered by the sounds of the birds, but nowhere near as discomfited as I was. The cries of the crows echoed in my mind. I could tell without looking that there were dozens of them flocking overhead. By the time their noise was gone I was in tears. The sorrow that enveloped me was overwhelming.

Thalion emerged from the edge of the woods followed by Galion. The steward was pale, but strode purposefully towards me. "Legolas," he said and embraced me. I held on to him for dear life. I had tasted fear so seldom, it thoroughly unbalanced me. As my heart slowed to a normal pace, I could hear Thalion berating Dolnor and Eluvorn.

"What in Morgoth's name are you two doing!" Thalion was saying to the brothers, "I send you to clean the dishes and you are all three soaked to the skin. I told your father you were too young to be soldiers, and I can see I was right. Finish the task and get back to the fire."

Sheepishly the two turned and began gathering up the utensils. Thalion turned to me. "Are you well, young prince?"

I nodded but did not relinquish my hold on the steward. "What were those birds, Galion?" I asked, "They spoke an evil song."

They are harbingers of the Necromancer, "said Galion soberly. "His stronghold is in Dol Guldur, but his minions are not confined there. I think we are on the cusp of a new era, and one that does not bode well for Thranduil and his kingdom."

I breathed deeply and closed my eyes. It took several more minutes before my balance was restored. Slowly we made our way back to the campfire. I was so exhausted by my ordeal that I hardly noticed that there was no evening song. I slept poorly that night, and my dreams were troubled with the cry of large birds singing of destruction and death.

We had a simple breakfast of water and waybread in the morning. While the brothers broke camp, Galion helped me with my morning ablutions. I had no fresh clothes, but Galion helped me comb my hair and braid it out of my face. He wrapped me in his large gray cloak before setting me astride Aduial.

During this time, Dolnor and Eluvorn were subdued and circumspect. We rode in silence for some time. I was sorry to lose their companionship, but I had to wonder how old they really were. They could not have reached their majority long since if they were newly made soldiers. I had enjoyed their attentions and determined to make friends of them if I could.

Another thought tumbled through my mind. "Galion, did you hear the birds yesterday?"

"Yes, my prince."

"Did you hear their song? You looked pale when you came to me. Could you feel the darkness as I did?"

"Not so strongly as you did, young Thranduilion, but yes, I felt the darkness."

"And yet the captain and the brothers seemed unaffected. Why is that?"

Galion grinned at my perceptiveness, "You and I are Silvan, little one, of the Laegrem. We are tied to the songs of Yavanna. The Sindar may love creation, but they are not tied to it as we are. It is a gift and an honor to carry the Song."

"But Thranduil, my father, he is Sindar, is he not? Can he feel the darkness?"

"Absolutely. The darkness of the Necromancer is powerful and strong. The birds only brushed us with their deprivations. Thranduil's warriors must strengthen their hearts, for even the Sindar are not unaffected by the Necromancer's dark intentions. To engage in battle with him demands fortitude of both body and soul."

The thought of fighting such darkness was overwhelming to me. I leaned heavily back against Galion and accepted his embrace.

As we drew nearer to the Halls of Thranduil, the number of elves on the road increased. The road was not wide enough for our party to ride more than two abreast; Dolnor and Eluvorn lead our little company and Thalion rode beside Galion who kept to the outer edge of the road. I was eager to see the different travelers as they approached and it was frustrating to be shielded from the view.

For the most part the other travelers were too absorbed in their own business to trouble a group of the king's guard, but more than once I was caught in a gaze of frank curiosity as we passed, a look which I eagerly returned.

By late afternoon the pine forest that had surrounded us for most of the morning was giving way to a lighter affect of willow and ash. Slender birch intermingled with occasional beech trees and the understory was lush with spring flowers. From beneath the hood of my cloak I could not see much of the sky, but what was there was light and soft, well in keeping with a warm spring day.

The road also began to descend. Not steeply, but consistently. I longed to look behind me to see the distance we had traveled, but with Galion at my back that was impossible. I grew restless. I wanted to stop and stretch, but the captain seemed intent on pressing forward, and I was too shy to ask.

I had just about decided to ask Galion if we could stop, when I caught sight of the ridge of a mountain peeking through the tops of the trees. The summit of the mountain was free of vegetation, but as we drew closer I could see that a dense forest of beech and maple covered the broad sides of the mountain like a cloak. I had never seen a mountain of that size before, and I considered while we rode how we would get over it. I wondered if the horses we were on knew how to climb, or if we would have to leave them at the bottom and ascend using our hands and feet.

My musings came to an abrupt end when we neared the edge of the forest at the very base of the mountain. Before us lay a broad clearing that descended gently to a river. I could not see the water, but I heard it slipping along swiftly between the steep banks. A sturdy bridge made of stone spanned the river, but I could see no continuance of the road beyond it.

The beech forest descended the face of the mountain ahead of us, to the left and to the right, but in the center it flanked an immense face of light stone that seemed to lean steeply against the slope of the mountain. If I squinted, I could see the openings to small caves high on the face of the stone, and near the bottom of the face I could discern rifts and awnings, as though there might be more caves within. I wondered again how we were to pass. When we finally fully emerged from the trees I saw too, that far to my left, that more cliffs could be seen, but they were sheltered from my view by a bend in the rock, as though there might be a valley or ravine into the mountains beyond.

The horses whickered and picked up their pace. Galion tightened his grip around my waist. "Hold on, Legolas. The horses know that they are almost home."

I puzzled over this as we stepped onto the bridge. The sound of the horses' feet shifted, and I looked down to see that the bridge was paved with cobbled stones. When I looked up again, I saw that we were almost upon the stone face, and that the road ran directly into it.

Eventually I spied what looked like a great cleft in the rock, but as we drew closer I could see that it was the opening to a great cavern that soon loomed high over our heads. A cold draft, like the wind across the water, blew into our faces. I drew the cloak tighter across my shoulders. We came to a halt then and I could hear the captain speaking to someone in a low urgent voice.

We dismounted and walked briskly into the increasing gloom of the cave. Eventually, we came to a huge gateway carved from the rock. Two giant carved stones, three or four times the height of an elf flanked the opening to the cave. Galion followed my gaze.

"Thranduil's Gates," he whispered into my ear, "they move in obedience to his voice alone."

I stared at the stone gates that loomed high above my head, then looked at Galion in amazement.

"Well, my prince," he said with a gentle smile, "Welcome to your home." 

_There is more to come. How do you like the story so far? Drop me a note and feed the Muse.  
_

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I was glad for the cloak, for the air in the cave was chilly. Our footfalls sounded hollow and dense against the ground. I wore no shoes, and the rock beneath my feet felt rough, like sand frozen into stillness. I could hear my breathing and the breathing of my companions as we walked. The light finally gave out as we drew near to a large tunnel that divided into two corridors.  
"We will leave you now, Prince Thranduilion," said the captain suddenly, turning and bowing in a single movement. Dolnor and Eluvorn followed suit. They turned and walked swiftly into one corridor of the tunnel.

The corridor we took appeared to be in total darkness, but there was a sharp turn, and all of a sudden there was the glimmer of red light from dozens of lanterns. I came to a full stop and stared at the tableau that unfolded before me. Although the dwarf masons had worked the stone into habitable rooms, the walls themselves had been crafted by Elvin hands intent on creating a sense of space and woodland wonder. The wide hallways were lit with brilliant lanterns that let off an odd odor. The flickering of the red flames created shadows within the carvings of trees, foliage and even flowers. I paused as we walked and looked up, half expecting to see a night sky. But all that was above me was the facsimile of great elms, arching their stony boughs across the ceiling to meet high above my head.

"Come, Legolas," said Galion, extending his hand to hold mine.

"Where are we going?" I asked. Our voices echoed against the stone walls.

"I will take you to the royal apartments," replied Galion, resuming his walk, "You can rest there, and we will get you something to eat."

"Will my father be there, too?"

Galion was silent for a moment, "Not right away, but very soon I hope."

The corridors we followed took us deep into the earth. At first I was fascinated by the carvings and reliefs that we passed, but as we continued onward I began to feel uncomfortable. A sense of the weight of the tons of rock that surrounded us began to press upon my soul. I grasped Galion's hand more tightly.

"Not much farther, Legolas," said Galion, guiding me to the left branch of a corridor that opened before us. Doors lined this new corridor. They were wide of dark wood, and set on great metal hinges. Eventually we stopped and Galion opened the door in front of us. I was surprised to see daylight streaming in to the room.

"This is the queen's room," said Galion, propelling me inward. "Come and see."

I was hardly aware of the tapestries and finely carved bed as I passed them. I was drawn to a wide window that drew in the light. Crossing the room quickly, I drew close to the window and drew a deep sigh. Somehow in our cave wanderings we had ascended to a great height. We were perched near the rim of what had been the wide west face of the mountain. At some point in the past, the whole side of the mountain had collapsed leaving a bowl of rocky debris in the valley below us. The window where I stood was high on the side of the remaining cliff. Beyond the rocky field was a copse of woods and a small lake. The surface of the water was rippled with the wind and sparkled in the afternoon sun.

A knock on the door interrupted my reverie. I turned to see a lithe elf gazing at me with merry brown eyes. Almost at once his countenance broke into a wide smile and he pressed his hand to his heart and bowed. When he rose, his twinkling eyes made me smile.

"Legolas, may I present Ereglin He will see that your needs are met." He turned to Ereglin, "Any word yet?"

Ereglin sobered and glanced at me before turning his attention to Galion. "They found him. He was taken down by a spider and lay paralyzed for two days while we were searching for him. Naergon found him. He was taken to camp and made comfortable. The messenger arrived early yesterday. If all goes well, the king should be here by tomorrow."

"Sweet Eru," breathed Galion, visibly relieved.

"My father was hurt?" I asked, "How did he get bit by a spider? I thought he wanted me to come here. Where is he now?"

Galion knelt before me, "Yes, your father was bitten by a rather large spider. I daresay it will make him ill for some days to come. We needed you here, nethben, until your father returned, because . . ."

"Because without Thranduil, you would be –"

"A great help and comfort to us!" interrupted Galion vehemently. "Ereglin, what say you find some food for the young prince? Ask Gwenen to draw him a bath. We also need to get him measured for some new clothes. He has nothing fit for court."

Ereglin bowed to me again, and as he rose, our eyes met. He smiled and winked at me, then turned on his heel and departed.

I have not much to say for the subsequent hours, save they went by in a blur. I was bathed and scrubbed within an inch of my life, I was fed a veritable feast and I was measured by a somber maiden who kept insisting that I was too small for my age.

I quite liked the bath, and Gwenen was a pleasant maiden who sang quietly under her breath as she combed out my hair. Eventually I was bundled into a white shift which totally mystified me, until Galion explained that there were special clothes for sleeping. By the time the sun was fully set I was dizzy from all the new things and quite exhausted. Galion led me to the bed and I clambered up to the high mattress.

"This is a funny way to make a talan," I proclaimed at last, after exploring the blankets and the pillows. "Though I don't suppose they have any trees to set it on here in the cave."

Galion smiled at me and asked if I'd like to hear a story. I shook my head. "Usually, Nathel would sing to me. Do you sing Galion?"  
Galion coughed a little, "The songs I know to sing would not suit young ears like yours, my prince."

"Well, don't worry," I said to reassure him, "I can sing my own songs." And I began with a simple day song for the flowers and the meadows. When I finished, I confessed, "Nathel usually doesn't allow me to sing day songs at night, but I thought it would be all right since I didn't sing many day songs today. I don't have any songs for the cave, but perhaps I should sing a song for the sky and the valley and the trees and the little lake?"

"That would be fine, Legolas," said Galion. For some reason he was trying hard not to laugh. I ignored him and began with a song that I already knew, and then folded new words and melodies into it as I sang. I envisioned my song floating out of the window on the night air, blowing gently on the rocks and the trees and the water, then soaring high into the jeweled vault of the night sky.

When I awoke in the middle of the night I wasn't sure at first what had awakened me. Galion had been kind enough to leave the drapes open at my request, and the room was bathed in the silver light of the moon. Silently I turned onto my belly, slipped my legs off the edge of the mattress and slid down to the floor, landing as quietly as I could.

There was a muffled noise. It sounded like people talking. The voices were muted, and they seemed to be coming from behind a heavy curtain that hung between two of the tapestries on the wall. I caught my tongue between my teeth. Envisioning myself as stealthy as a moonbeam I crossed to where the curtain was. I gently pulled the cloth aside to reveal a small wooden door, hardly the height of an elf. The voices stopped and then began again. Smiling to myself, I leaned forward and placed my ear against the wood.

At once the voices became clearer.

"—and extra covers," said one voice, that spoke with authority, "You don't want him catching a chill."

"Pull the drapes, Gwenen, if you please. I doubt he'll want to rise with the dawn tomorrow." That was Galion.

There were other noises, then the voice of authority, "Someone should stay with him tonight. He probably won't stir, but it would be wise. . . "

"I'll stay," said Galion. "He won't tolerate being watched, but I'll be in the sitting room, next door. Is there anything else? . . . Well, goodnight, then. Goodnight Gwenen. I'll call you if I have need."

There was a tingling in my body, and I had to be firm with myself to keep from wiggling. My father the king was on the other side of the door, I just knew it. What would he be like? What would he say when he saw me? This and a thousand questions sped through my mind as I stood there in my nightshirt, one hand on the latch.

I waited for what seemed like hours. There was the sound of Galion moving about, but then for a long time there was nothing. Slowly, and as silently as possible, I lifted the metal latch and pushed open the door. I found myself facing the back of a large piece of drapery, similar to the one in the room behind me. Carefully, I reached around the edge of the curtain and, pulling it back no farther than necessary, I peered into the room.

After the brilliant moonlight in my room, at first the room seemed overwhelmingly dark, but as my eyes adjusted I could see that it was dimly lit with several torches set into the stone walls. They burned steadily with deep red flame, casting tall shadows as they flickered. The air in the room smelled old, and there was a dark taint to it. Later I would recognize it as the remnants of orch stench, but for then, I just wrinkled my nose. Great tapestries lined the stone walls of the chamber. I could only vaguely make out the shapes woven into them. There were several pieces of furniture, all looming darkly in the dim light. I turned my head and bit my lower lip. The bed was not more than six steps from where I stood. Several blankets were draped over the form of the sleeping king. He was tall, as far as I could tell from my place, and his face was serene in slumber. His features were well balanced and strong, but there were dark circles under his eyes.

I moved my head to see his face better and caught my breath. His hair was spilled across the pillow beneath his head, shining in the torch light. It was every bit as gold as my own.

My slight movement must have made more noise than I thought, for the figure on the bed stirred and awareness came into his eyes. His brow furrowed and he peered, perplexed, into the gloom. I realized then that he could not see me, hidden as I was behind the edge of the curtain. I held my breath.

With more grace than I could have imagined, the king rolled to his side, and poured a glass of liquid from a decanter at his bedside. His hand trembled as he poured. He sighed, squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead with his thumb. "May the Belair have mercy," he whispered, "I was a fool to lower my guard near that spawn of Shelob. Idiot." He reached for the glass and drained it. "Shades, but I am weary to the bone."

My eyes grew wide. I knew that I was witnessing a moment of unguarded candor. The king thought that he was alone. I had no idea what he was talking about, but his words frightened me. He rubbed his eyes with finger and thumb, and in my fea, I could suddenly feel his pain and sorrow. Anxiety filled me, and I looked away, no longer wishing to trespass on the king's privacy.

When I looked again, scarcely a moment later, the king was staring at a spot about a foot above me. "Who goes there?" he hissed. "Are you an apparition or an assassin?" He placed the glass on the bedside table and, almost faster than my eye could see, slipped his hand under his pillow and drew forth a six inch blade. He was on his feet in a moment, battle ready. He did not strike.

I stared at the blade, shimmering blood red in the light of the flickering torches. _This elf is a warrior_, I thought to myself, _I wonder if I will die tonight_. I was terrified. I knew if I moved he would be upon me in an instant. My eyes never left his face as I slowly pulled the curtain back to reveal myself.

The look of shock on his face almost undid me. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my knees began to tremble. I was frozen to the spot, and could not move a muscle.

"Laeglas?" he whispered, at last, after tracing me with his eyes from head to toe. "ion nin, Why have you come?" He did not draw close to me, but lowered the knife and sat weakly upon the bed. He continued to gaze at me with hungry eyes. "You should not be here." he took a deep shuddering breath.

The sigh broke the moment. I narrowed my eyes and peered at him. I was at a loss as to what to do. As I turned to flee, our eyes met and at that moment I felt a door open within my soul, and I felt a bond there. It was not unlike my bond with Brethilas, save for the fact that the nuances I sensed held the weight of a thousand years of suffering. Overwhelmed, I turned and fled.

When I woke the next morning, Gwenen was singing softly under her breath, setting out an armload of clothing on the wide desk near the window. There were tunics and leggings and small clothes, these last were of a cloth that looked very soft and comfortable. Curious, I sat up and watched her. Eventually, she sensed my eyes upon her, and turned a smiling face my way.

"Good morning, your highness," she said with a little curtsey, "The tailors were up all night on your behalf. Come and see what their nimble hands have done!"

I scrambled out of bed and crossed the room. The clothes were amazing. There were any number of breeches and leggings, most in solid dark colors, but that was to contrast with the brilliant hues of the tunics that were set to go with them. Quickly I set aside a yellow and orange piece in favor of a simple tunic of heather green. The embroidery on it was every bit as fine as Galion's. It featured any number of small birds each an excellent replica of one of the woodland songbirds, perched in tracings of oak leaf clusters.

I loved it at once, and grew impatient as Gwenen tried to guide me to consider some of the other things. Finally, she laughed at my stubbornness and helped me to dress. I did not mind wearing the clothing, but I was not pleased to learn that I was to wear boots.

"But I can't feel with my feet if they are in boots," I complained.

"There is naught to feel but the stone floors of the caverns," she replied.

"But aren't we going outside?" I protested. "How can I sing the morning songs inside a cave?"

I grew quite distressed, for I was already overwhelmed with the events of the night before, and I could not envision a morning without my beloved trees nearby. I began to cry in spite of myself.

Gwenen knelt down and swept me into her arms. She smelled lovely, of lavender and spruce. I hid my face on her shoulder and wrapped my arms around her neck. I cried as though my heart was broken, and she murmured soft words and stroked my back until the tears were spent. When my sobs had subsided, she kissed me on the forehead and gave me a hug. "There, now, little prince. Leave the shoes off, if it pleases you. I will see if we can find a way to get you outside for a spell."

She led me to a small table that held a basin and a pitcher of water and used a soft cloth to wash my face and hands. She had almost finished brushing and braiding my hair when there was a knock at the door, and Ereglin entered carrying a large tray filled with food. He took the tray to an ornately carved little table with two chairs by the fireplace and expertly arranged a single place setting and the dishes for the meal. When he was done he stepped back and looked at me expectantly. I looked at the table confused.

"If that is your place, Ereglin, then how shall Gwenen and I eat? I can stand, if you like, but Gwenen should really have the second chair."

Ereglin looked uncomfortable, and actually blushed a bit. Gwenen came to his rescue. "Ereglin and I have eaten already, thank you," she said gently, "This is for you."

I approached the table and looked at what had been set out for me. There was a tall mug with apple juice and a bowl of something that smelled of oats. There was also meat and cheese and bread. I bit my lip and stood and stared at the food. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I was ashamed of myself for acting so foolishly. I wanted nothing more than a cup of tea and some fresh fish, but I knew it was not my place to ask. Slowly, I sat down in the chair and set my hands in my lap. I blinked rapidly several times and willed the tears to subside. I could feel Ereglin And Gwenen exchanging a glance with one another. Ereglin turned and left the room. I sat still, gazing out the window and did not move.

A few minutes later there was a soft knock and the door opened again. I could hear Galion walk across the room behind me. "Legolas, I am sorry I was not here for your morning repast. I was with the king, and-"

I glared at him and my discomfort finally came into focus, "You told me that my father wanted me to come here, but you were wrong!" I said defiantly, "He doesn't want me here. He doesn't even know why I am here. He is weary and tired and angry and he doesn't like me!" The tears returned unbidden. "Why did you tell me that he wanted me, Galion?" I begged, "I want to go home!" I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself and sobbed anew.

I was so pulled within myself that I hardly heard the murmurs that followed my outburst. I was prepared to shrug off anyone who touched me, but no one came forward to comfort me, and I was thankful for that. I sucked on my lower lip and closed my eyes tightly. For a few minutes I tried to vision myself back at our fire with Nador and Nathel nearby, but I was too upset. When I finally lifted my head from my arms it occurred to me that it had been very quiet for some time. I blinked, and as my eyes cleared, I saw that I was not alone in the room. The king himself had taken a seat in the chair across from mine and was watching me patiently. The dark circles were more pronounced in the light of the morning, and I could see that he did not feel well.

It occurred to me then that he might be waiting for me to speak, but I realized that I did not know what to say. Eventually, he quirked his mouth in a half smile and said, "I have heard from my steward that I frightened you and made you feel less than welcome. I made quite a mess of things." He sighed quietly, "I thought that the whole episode was a dream." He paused, "I know that I need to make amends." He tried unsuccessfully to catch my eye. "I beg your forgiveness for frightening you so last night. I had no idea that you were here, and I was in no shape to receive visitors, else I would have welcomed you more graciously."

I placed my chin on my knees and looked at him through lowered eyes. I could see the russet hem of his tunic, and his hands resting lightly in his lap. Those hands had held a knife last night . . . I shook my head and closed my eyes. I was so ashamed of walking in on him the night before. I felt like I should apologize, but the words would not come. After a few moments, I heard him stand and walk to the door. He opened the door and paused for a moment, then he left and closed the door behind him.

Gwenen came in, then, and put her arms around me, but I was determined not to cry again.

_Well, that's it for now. Why don't you take a minute and send me some feedback? I always reply to signed reviews._

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Gwenen was as good as her word. After coaxing me to try the oat porridge (it really wasn't bad), we followed Ereglin down to the kitchens. The corridors we took were narrower than those we had taken the day before. The walls were smooth and the lanterns less frequent. Gwenen had me by the hand, and explained to me that we were taking the servants' hallways.

Eventually, the tunnel opened out to a large room, at least as big as the fire pavilion at home. A half dozen elves were in the process of preparing food, but all activity ceased as we entered the room.

There were whispers of "Laeglas," and "the prince," I leaned against Gwenen and gazed about with wide eyed curiosity. Ereglin stepped around from behind us and lowered the tray onto a wide table, where a diminutive maiden had been cutting vegetables. A slender figure, with his hair tied back in a tail was stirring something in a small pan set near a huge hearth that covered one wall of the room. He set his task aside and strode over to where we were standing. "Heledirn at your service, my lord," and he bowed deeply. I saw the others in the room were bowing as well. It seemed to be my turn to talk. I looked up to Gwenen's face and she smiled down at me. I looked at Heledirn again.

"Thank you for the breakfast," I said shyly, "Do you want me to help with the dishes?" A ripple of gentle laughter filled the room and Heledirn smiled, "No, my prince, but if you would like to look around?"

I looked at Gwenen. I really did want to go outside. She smiled down at me, "Not right now, Heledirn," she replied, "I promised Legolas that we would go outside."

"Legolas? Not Laeglas, then? Very well, but come again as you like." With that, Heldirn bowed again, and watched us as we made our way to a wide door set in the stone wall. Ereglin joined us, and opened the door.

"We'll go to the supply entrance, Legolas. With so many people living in the Halls, Thranduil had the dwarves craft a few other entrances beyond the grand gates." He led us down a wide corridor with high ceilings, "The supply wagons unload in here during inclement weather, otherwise, they stop in the yard and we unload there." A set of tall doors, twice as wide as a wagon came into view. They were closed, but a much smaller door, set to the side, was open. We made our way to that door.

As I stepped over the threshold I took in a deep breath. I could smell the dampness of the wetlands warming up in the late spring sun, and the sound of the river, much swifter than the one at home, met my ears. I was standing in a vast stone walled yard with stables at the far end, and perhaps a dozen craft cottages set against the mountain to the right. A set of stairs set into the stone face of the mountain beside me led upwards to another set of ramparts, and I could hear the sounds of swords clanging in practice.

Dozens of elves, some working, some talking; all were engaged in various tasks around me. Many were Sindar, but there were also Silvan in the mix. I could hear the sounds of several work songs as they went about their tasks. I was about to ask Gwenen if we could meet some of them, but then I spied a small copse of trees growing in the center of the yard. Without asking leave, I ran to the trees and leapt to the lowest branch of the maple, the largest tree there. I made my way easily to the upper branches and paused to look around.

My perch set me high enough to see the lay of the land beyond the wall. Far below me, beyond the ramparts, the boughs of birch and laurel obscured most of the wide road that led to the Halls. The road itself arched across the great stone bridge that spanned the river. I could see from my vantage point the gates of Thranduil, and then a small road that branched off to lead to the yard where I was. There was a heavy gate at the end of the road, but it was open and I could see elves and a couple of wagons making their way towards me.

The yard looked like it had been excavated from the side of the mountain itself. It was bound by ramparts of stone that were at least six feet thick. The ends of the battlements butted up against the steep slope of the mountain which was graced by the beauty of a beech forest, interspersed with maple trees. The noises in the work yard obscured the sounds of the birds that nested in their branches, but I could sense that they were there.

After the confines of the caves, the open sky was a brilliant window for my soul. I climbed a bit higher and smiled as a breath of wind blew against my face. I laughed and began to sing. It felt so wonderful to be in the trees again.

It was some time later that I felt vibrations that told me that someone else was in the tree. I looked down to find Ereglin's merry face looking up at me. Beyond him, on the ground and clustered around the tree were many of the elves who had been busily at work. They were watching me closely. I stopped singing and frowned, "Are they upset with me Ereglin? Have I done something wrong?"

Ereglin shook his head and smiled, "No, Legolas, they only want to greet you."

"Do I need to come down now?"

"It would be good to greet your people, little prince."

"My people? But I don't know them yet."

"Then come and meet them. They are anxious to know you."

I sighed and then laughed and began to scamper down the tree. I had to pause a bit for Ereglin's slow descent, but we made it down in good order. When we got to the bottom, Ereglin stood behind me and began the introductions.

The first to bow graciously before me was an ellon. He wore a heavy leather apron and his eyes were sharp and clear. "Mae govenan," he said graciously, bowing low. "I am Thavron, the carpenter."

"_Mae govenan_, Thavron," I replied with what I hoped was a dignified smile, "My name is Legolas. "My nadar loves to work with wood as well. I am very good at sanding. Perhaps I could help you sometime?"

Thavron grinned, "as you wish, little master."

A fresh faced maiden came next. She had dainty features and a wide mouth that curled up at the edges, as though she must smile without ceasing. Her dark curly hair was damp, as though she'd been somewhere quite warm, and her cheeks were rosy. "Welcome, Legolas," she said, I am Selediel, the baker's daughter."

"Did you bake those honey cakes that Galion gave me the other day?"

Her eyebrows went up, "Well, I imagine so. Did they have bits of nuts peeking out?" I nodded my head. "Well, that's the way I bake them. Ada is not so fond of the nuts. But you liked them?" Her eyebrows went up again. I nodded, and she smiled, "Then come and visit me and you shall have some more." She laughed merrily. "I will bake some for you today!" My eyes followed her as she turned and departed. I would have liked to watch her longer, but a slender elf was before me.

His eyes were a brilliant blue and he wore a tunic of the same color. His fingers were graceful and quite long. I could see the curve of a harp upon his back. He did not speak to me at first, but grasped my hand and squeezed it. He bent down and met me eye to eye. "Welcome, young Thranduilion," he said, in a slow voice with a timbre of warm honey, "You are long awaited." He smiled then, and the smile crinkled his eyes. I knew then that I wanted him for a friend, but I was too overcome by his presence to think of something to say.

There were many elves that I met that day, the well muscled blacksmith; the two groomsmen who were father and son; Anorthel the lamplighter and Garthdal the messenger of the keep. These latter were best friends. It was fun to watch them with each other. By the time that introductions were concluded, the heat of the day was upon us, and my legs were growing weary from standing in one place for so long.

Ereglin finally came to my rescue, "It is well past time for a midday meal," he said, "Legolas will undoubtedly come here again. Allow us to withdraw to take our meal," and he began leading me towards the little door that led to the kitchens.

"Wait, please, Ereglin," I said, "Selediel told me that she would bake honey cakes today. Can we go find them?"

Ereglin began to shake his head no, but Gwenen, who had been standing nearby, nodded and said, "Selediel is a friend of mine. I am sure that she would welcome us for lunch. Come, follow me." And with that she set off to the row of work cottages that were set nestled against the bank of the mountain. Ereglin grasped my hand and we followed.

As we drew closer, the succulent smell of fresh bread filled the air and my stomach began to rumble. Gwenen laughed at me and called out, "Selediel, have you finished the honey cakes yet? The prince would like to have some right away!"

Soon Selediel emerged from between two huge ovens that looked like bee hives made of clay. Her hair was plastered to her face and sweat glistened on her brow, but she smiled merrily and extended her hands in friendship. "Come, let me show you to the tables. We often have people stop here for lunch. Naneth will be delighted to meet you."

I was led to one of several small wooden tables that were set under the wide eaves of the baker's cottage. Selediel quickly set three chairs around one of the tables and we sat down. I was relieved to be sitting at last and swung my legs back and forth a bit to get the blood moving in them again. Selediel's mother, who looked a great deal like her daughter, brought us tall glasses of cold juice and wide slices of fresh bread with cheese. I devoured my food with little regard for manners, but I was ravenous.

The honey cakes arrived in due time and I managed to eat almost three of them before my stomach would hold no more. My greed was not discouraged, indeed Selediel and both of her parents watched my every bite with pleased satisfaction. Finally, I set my hand on my stomach, "I wish I could eat cakes like that every day," I sighed. "Thank you Selediel."

"You're most welcome, your highness," grinned the elleth. 

I confess, I was a little sleepy as we made our way back to the caves. It would have been quite easy to curl up in the sun for a nap. When we entered the stone corridors again, the cool air was refreshing and I revived a bit. The kitchen was nearly empty when we passed through it. Heledirn and two other cooks were there cleaning fish for the evening meal.

"How did your morning go, Legolas?" asked Heledirn. His hands did not slow in their task as he talked.

I walked over and stood close by him. "It was good," I reported. "Can I help?"

Heledirn smiled at me, "These blades are sharp, little one. Have you ever cleaned a fish before?"

I smiled back at him. I grabbed one of the fish from the table, picked up a knife and began to clean the fish. Heledirn watched me with raised eyebrows for a moment and then laughed, "You are welcome to help me, Legolas, but please remove your tunic," he said at last, "Eithel will not be happy if she has to launder fish innards off that embroidery."

Quickly I put down my knife and Gwenen helped me out of my tunic and under shirt. She pulled back my hair into a tail and bound it with a bit of thread.

I cleaned fourteen fish that afternoon, and learned many things from Heledirn. The fish were fresh caught from the river in great wheel traps, moved by the current, which scooped the fish into leather buckets and deposited them in wooden holding traps. It took a lot of fish to feed everybody; often they had to bring extra fish in from a lake nearby. Heledirn was proud that his kitchen could feed so many people every day, and he was happy to explain to me some of the ways that he got things done. When we finished our task, Heledirn promised that there would be fish on the menu for supper. He showed me where to clean myself up, and I redressed and followed Gwenen and Ereglin back to my room.

The remainder of the afternoon was uneventful. Ereglin left us for a time, and Gwenen coaxed me into lying on the bed for a rest. She rubbed my back and sang some simple songs to me. I would have chattered with her about my day, but I found that I was indeed tired. Eventually I dozed for a time.

When I awoke the sun had a late cast to it. Gwenen was sitting patiently in a chair near the window. "It is well that you are up Legolas," she announced, "Ereglin stopped by not long ago. The king is well enough to sit at table this evening, so there will be a small feast to welcome him home. You will need to dress for dinner."

"But I am already dressed, Gwenen," I protested, "I like this tunic and I don't want to wear something else." But Gwenen would not be swayed, and eventually we picked out a deep blue tunic with light blue piping that she said went well with my eyes.

She made me put on fresh leggings as well, and even the dreaded boots, although they were not as uncomfortable as they looked. When I was done dressing, she brought out a small box of trinkets to find some clasps for the ends of my braids. I wanted to protest, but they were so shiny and beautiful. I finally chose four of silver with deep blue sapphires set on the ends.

"Where are we going to eat, Gwenen?" I asked as she placed the clasps in my hair.

"_You _are going to eat, little one," said Gwenen. "Ereglin and I will take our meal with the servants. You will be at the high table with your father."

I felt a knot twist in my stomach. I had had such a wonderful day. I did not want to face the king again. "I would rather eat with you," I begged. "Please?"

Gwenen smiled and shook her head. "There will be quite a few people there for you to greet, _nethben_, although not the ones you met today."

I grabbed her and burrowed my face, "I don't want to go to dinner, Gwenen. Can we just eat here?"

Gwenen hugged me back. "Are you tired of so many new faces, Legolas? Come, now. They are all ready to love you. I will walk with you to the hall, and I will be back to tuck you in tonight." I soon found myself walking the broad halls to a new part of the caverns.

I could hear the great room long before we reached it. Even the thick stone walls did not hide the rise and fall of many of voices talking with mellifluous cadence. A few elves passed us on our way. They were also dressed for dinner with fine tunics and bright dresses and often sparkling jewels. My curiosity soon overrode my trepidation and I wrinkled my nose trying to smell the fish that Heledrin had promised. The smell was there, but there was also the smell of roasted vegetables, wild onions and fresh bread. I held Gwenen's hand tightly.

We drew close to the closed doors of the hall and paused. Two guards, wearing the dark green livery of the House greeted us solemnly. "The king has already been seated," said one to Gwenen, "We will introduce you in a moment." Working in unison, they pushed open the wide the doors to the hall. The talking ceased abruptly.

"Opening these doors is the sign that someone new is to be introduced to the Hall," whispered Gwenen to me, "Do you see your father sitting there at the head table?" Quickly I glanced around the hall. The great room was huge, with clusters of long tables along the side. Dozens of elves were seated at the tables. They were all watching me. The open space in the center of the room was dim, but the high table at the far end of the hall was brilliantly lit with lanterns. I could see the king sitting there with a retinue of elves seated on either side. There was an empty seat at the high table, though, right beside the king. I looked at Gwenen and nodded dumbly.

"Can you walk to the high table by yourself, or do you want me to hold your hand?" she whispered.

I looked at her and gave her a half smile. I would not suffer to have her walk me like an infant. "I am fine," I whispered, and I turned to face the king.

The guard standing before me turned and in a loud voice, announced, "The king welcomes Prince Laeglas Thranduilion to the high table."

Gwenen squeezed my shoulder and gave me a little pat on the back. I raised my chin and stepped forward. So long as I didn't look at the king I was fine. I almost stopped on my journey to the table to simply stare at the splendor of so many elves so elegantly attired. The ellyn wore tunics of rich and vibrant colors, greens, golds, reds and blues. The strength of the color was offset by the gowns that the maidens wore, mostly of pastel hues. I could think of no higher compliment to say that they looked like a field of wildflowers in the spring. My feet faltered further as I felt the song of joy that washed beneath the surface and I was surprised to realize that the joy was in relation to me. I was about halfway to the high table when someone began to sing a Silvan song of welcome that Nathel had taught me when I was young. I relaxed and smiled, then. Was this the home that Galion had welcomed me to only yesterday? It was a lovely place indeed.

But then the king's face came into focus and I stared at him. Our troubled meetings came to my mind and I frowned. He looked much better than he had in the morning. He was wearing fine clothes, and jewels sparkled on his fingers. On his head was a circlet of summer greenery with flowers and berries cleverly woven in. When my gaze met his, his smile vanished for a moment, replaced by a look of caution and apprehension. I knew then that he didn't like me. He really didn't want to see me. Quickly I looked away. I stood quietly before the high table. Galion came to me then and led me to the king. The singing subsided.

The king set his hand on my shoulder and turned me to the people. "Laeglas Thranduilion, child of the Green Wood, I greet you and I welcome you home." His voice was rich and warm, but the hand on my shoulder was tense. He kissed me on my forehead as the hall erupted into cheers. I could not meet his gaze, but looked down, overwhelmed. Galion helped me to my chair and I sat down gratefully. I bit my lip and breathed in. The fish. We were going to have fish for supper. I focused on that one thought, and tried to breathe evenly.

Of course the vegetables and bread were served first. I had never eaten meals in courses before, so I was a little anxious that the fish had been forgotten. The king kept looking at me, which made me uncomfortable. Finally, I saw Heledirn enter the hall with a trencher heaped high with fish and I breathed a sigh of relief. My mouth began to water.

Heledirn walked behind the chairs of the high table. As he passed my chair, he paused to whisper, "Thank you again for your help, Prince Legolas. I have prepared the fish with your father's favorite recipe. I hope you enjoy it."

The king was served first, and I could hear him complimenting Heledirn in a low voice. Then a plate with fish was placed before me and I was stunned. It was thickly encrusted with spices, so much so that the surface was covered in dried basil and thyme and it sat in a pool of milk and butter. Now butter I could tolerate. We had it occasionally in the village and I liked the smooth creamy taste of it. But I have never been fond of milk, of any sort. And for me, spices on fish totally ruins the flavor.

I glanced at the king from the corner of my eye. He was relishing the fish on his plate, taking time from it only to drink deeply from a metal goblet filled with wine. He was engaged in conversation with the others at the table. I remember nothing of the words he spoke, only a growing sense within myself of anger and frustration. _I _had cleaned the fish._ I_ had helped Heledirn, and yet it was the king who was enjoying it. It seemed grievously unfair.

I nervously twisted my fingers, wondering what to do. I kept my head down so that no one could see the tears that threatened to fall. I sat still, very still. I heard the king take another bite of fish. Oh, how I wished that it were I enjoying the fish, not the king! I looked up and caught sight of the great doors at the far end of the hall. There was nothing between me and the doors, save for the table and a platter of milk sodden fish. As quietly as I could, I slid from the chair, under the table, and made a scrambled dash for the doors.

I envisioned myself as a hawk in flight, so swiftly did I scamper across the floor. I got to the great doors and ran into them with a thud. I pressed myself against their great weight and whimpered. I pressed as hard as I could, but they would not budge. It occurred to me then that they opened into the room, and I should be pulling, not pushing.

Before I could situate myself to begin pulling, I was scooped up by long arms and held close to someone that I did not know. I thrashed about with all my might.

"_Sidho_, Legolas,_ Daro_." The voice was low and gentle like honey. After a moment I ceased my struggles and looked up. The harper's warm blue eyes gazed into mine. I clutched him tightly around the neck and whimpered. He held me firmly but kindly, opened the door and carried me out.

He set me down once we were in the hallway, and turned to the guards, "Tell the king that I am with the prince," he instructed one of the guards. Then he turned to me, "What are your orders now, little one? I am at your service."

I was breathing hard from my mad dash, I wrapped my arms around myself and took a moment to find balance. Finally I shrugged, "I don't know." I murmured, "I don't like it here. I want to go home."

The harper considered this for a moment, then said, "Come. Let me take you to your rooms, and we will talk." I nodded and we walked together down the corridor.

When we got to the room, the harper opened the door and I went straightaway to the window. I pulled the casement open wide and took deep breaths of the early evening air. The rose of sunset was beginning to blush in the sky, although the hues in the valley below me were somber with the oncoming dusk. A group of geese rose from the lake and headed eastward to some unseen destination. The sweet smell of spring hung in the air.

I breathed deeply, then noticed that there was a broad sill just outside the window. In a moment, I was seated on the sill, my legs dangling over the precipice below. I could hear the harper shift behind me, but he did not stop me. Being so much closer to the fresh air helped me immensely. I looked up, searching the sky for an early star.

"What is your name?" I asked finally, twisting to look at the elf behind me.

"Talagand, your highness. I am master harper of the court."  
I rested my back on the frame of the window and drew one knee up to my chest. "I need to ask your forgiveness, Talagand, for behaving so poorly."

"It occurs to me, Master Legolas, that people seldom act without due cause. Was there some reason that you were fleeing the room?"

I ducked my head and blushed, "I was running from the fish," I confessed.

There was a moment of silence, Talagand cleared his throat, and then I could hear a smile in his voice, "Would you like to tell me more?"

I glared at him, afraid that he was teasing me, but his eyes were gentle and kind. I said, "I helped to clean the fish today, Talagand. I thought that Heledirn would cook it nicely. Instead he listened to the king and had to do it the king's way. He put milk on it and spices, which is just what the king wanted." Anger rose in me again and I crossed my arms over my chest. "The king should not have had his fish like that!" I scowled.

Talagand raised his eyebrows. "Do you believe that the king did that to annoy you?"

"He might have," I growled, "He doesn't like me."

"How do you know that he doesn't like you?"

"He is upset when he looks at me. He sent me away once, you know. When I was very little."

"Ah, yes," said Talagand, nodding, "I was there."

"Why did he do that, Talagand?" I was still upset, but I was also curious what the harper might say.

"Well, Legolas, as far as I can tell, there was a surge in the forces of darkness soon before you were born. Your father had a kingdom to tend to, and the creatures of the Necromancer were pushing further into Mirkwood's peaceful territory. With the demands on his time, I am not sure that he felt he had the resources he needed to devote to you. He did what he thought was best."

I sucked on my lower lip and looked out over the valley. I had nothing more to say. Talagand finally spoke, "Would you like for me to have something sent up to you?" I shook my head. I was not hungry.

"Come in from the ledge, and I will go and tell your father that you are well," suggested Talagand. I nodded and climbed back into the room. "Can I get you anything else, my prince?"

I smiled for Talagand and shook my head, "I will wait here for Gwenen to come," I said.

Talagand looked at me for a long moment, then bowed gracefully and departed.

Immediately I went back over to the window and climbed out on the ledge. My spirit was quite restless within me. I tried singing, but my voice faltered. I tried envisioning myself as one of the geese flying swiftly and freely on the wind, but I kept seeing the eyes of the king. In the morning they had been sorrowful, full of pain and apprehension. At dinner he was sad, too, and frightened. Not unhappy with everyone just unhappy when he saw me.

Part of me wanted him to like me, but I didn't know why. He was the king, after all. If he wanted to dislike me, there was nothing I could do about it. He would probably just send me away again.

Restless, I climbed back into the room and began to pace about. I didn't understand why I was so off balance. I needed to be outside. I needed Nathel to calm me. I needed to be in the boughs of a tree where I could see things more clearly and sing out the troubles from my soul. Swiftly, I crossed the room and opened the door to the hallway. My plan was to find the kitchen and make my way to the maple tree in the yard. I was sure that I knew the way.

_Well, we'll leave Legolas pondering his situation. Could you take a moment to ponder your reactions to this story? All comments and concrit are welcome. I always respond to signed reviews. Take a minute to feed the muse!_

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

At first all went well. I had no trouble finding the entrance to the servants' corridors. There were plenty of torches on the walls to light my way. The pathway grew narrower as expected and I could feel that I was descending.

As I proceeded, my confidence grew, and my pace increased. It was not until I had gone quite a ways that I realized that I must have missed a turn, else I should have arrived at the kitchens much sooner. Quickly I turned and retraced my steps. Eventually, I came to a path that branched off the corridor I was on. It was not quite so well lit, but it did lead downward, so followed it, reasoning that it must find my destination sooner or later.

The pathway continued to narrow as I walked, until the walls were only an arm's length away. I felt the tendrils of anxiety nudge and my consciousness, but I pushed them away and moved on.

Eventually, the hallway narrowed again, and I had to bend to avoid running into a torch which had burnt down so that only the embers lit the way. I paused in the dimness, and considered my options. Clearly I was on the wrong path. I wanted to call out to someone, but I knew that they were too far away to hear me.

Just to be sure, I stilled myself and closed my eyes to listen better. I could hear my breathing and the comforting double stroke of my heartbeat, but there was no sound outside of my body, save for the occasional sputtering of the dying torch. There was no sound, no song, no air moving or water flowing, no animals scurrying, nor leaves falling. All that had been part of me, and in me and with me since the day that I was born was silenced. All was silence. And the weight of the rocks pressed on my soul. And I was alone.

I was too terrified to scream.

My eyes flew open and I focused on the dying embers of the torch. So long as there were torches, I was safe. Frantically, I looked for another torch. With a few swift steps, one came into view. I ran to it and looked for another. Anxiety rode in my stomach like a wild cat. Another torch, and then another. The corridor branched off, then branched off again. I dodged aimlessly, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right. My path rose and fell and twisted and turned. The hallways went on in unending sameness. Panic drove my steps, until, quite abruptly, I turned a corner and felt air moving across my face.

I paused, breathing hard, then I followed the path of the breeze to a narrow tunnel in the wall. I peered inside, and I thought I saw daylight at the other end. Immediately I was on my belly, wiggling through the tunnel.

When I emerged I found that the air was fresh, although I was not free of the shrouds of the caves. I was in a huge cavern. High overhead there was a gap in the ceiling, and the ambient light of a lingering sunset could be seen. The cavern itself was bathed in shadow, and a number of torches were lit at its perimeter, although their effectiveness was muted by the vast size of the cave.

My curiosity tempered my fear, and I looked around, examining each feature in wide-eyed wonder. The torches' flickering light did not reach to the ceiling, but played along any number of rock formations. There were sheets of rock spilling from the walls like translucent draperies cast in stone. Huge stalactites hung from the ceiling, some of them joining heavy stalagmites reaching up from the floor below. Pillars had been carved from these columns of living rock; scenes from the wood decorated their sides.

Several torches were set beside a wide fissure in the wall, illuminating a field of helectites, those fragile white tendrils of rock that shatter when touched. Along another wall an array of flowstone hung like frozen rain from a section of rock that arched some twenty feet over the floor. Beneath my feet was sandstone, but much of the floor in the center of the room had been tiled with brilliant mosaics. A wide shelf of black granite formed a natural dais at one end of the cavern.

There were torches surrounding the granite. I walked closer. There was nothing on the dais, save for a huge intricately carved seat set at the very center. The piece was made from a single trunk of white oak; the frame of the tree could still be discerned from the way that the chair was cut. Much of the surface of the chair was covered with a pattern that looked to be a single strand of rope curled and turned and twisted upon itself in symmetrical balance. There were panels on the back crowned with more intricate carvings that looked like the latticework of tree crowns in winter. The panels themselves were etched with the scene of a forest lake with stars overhead. Miniature trees, detailed to the very leaves, held up the arms of the chair. The seat itself was unadorned, save that it was worn smooth, as though well used over time. I do not know how long I stared and gazed at the piece, awed at the craftsmanship.

Eventually I gathered myself and stepped onto the granite, and rested my hand one of the arms of the chair. The wood spoke to me then, of its great age and strength and wisdom. I did not dare sit in the chair, but I knelt before it, and draped my body across the seat. I had need of reassurance from a tree, and lacking the boughs of a living tree, I hoped that the aged chair might suffice. I rested my cheek against the smooth surface of the seat and, drawing additional sustenance from the lingering light above, I sucked on my fingers for comfort.

I drowsed for a bit, but did not sleep. My body calmed and my mind cleared. I thought of Nadar and Nathel, and the love they had for me. I thought of Brethilas. If he were with me, he would chide me for my fears, and stand with me until I was found. I thought of the people I had met, the honey cakes and helping with the fish, and the beautiful singing at supper. But that led me to thinking about the king, and I frowned. He did not like me, that was sure. He was angry and tired and dark with me. I didn't like being afraid of him, and I didn't know why his displeasure made me so sad. I sighed. I needed to move on. Perhaps if I found my way outside I could make my way home.

I couldn't find the tunnel that I had used to gain entrance to the cave, but I could see another path leading away from the cavern on the far side. Resolutely, I set my course and began walking.

This new tunnel was much more well marked than the others I had been following, and for a time I hoped to come across a servant or a guard, but to no avail. The corridor was wide and angled downward. Occasionally I passed great doors set into the stone, but they were all closed, and I did not take time to explore. Eventually, the passage divided. I decided to take the right branch, which led downward.

After quite some time as I descended the air began to feel colder, no, not colder, perhaps, just wetter. I could see water glistening on the wall beside me. Great timbers framed the hall in front of me at regular intervals, shoring up the ceiling, which had dropped to about twice my height. The beams were massive and dark with age. As I walked on, they came at ever diminishing intervals. I had almost resolved to turn and try another way when I heard the sound of rushing water. Thinking that the sound must lead to the river, I quickened my pace, only to cry out in dismay when I realized that my way was barred by a great door that spanned the walk in front of me.

I set my hands upon the door, and then lay my ear against it. I could hear the water rushing behind the door. There was no latch to be found, but there was a sturdy iron handle bolted firmly to its surface. I grabbed the handle and began to pull, throwing the full weight of my body into the effort. With surprisingly little friction, the door swung open. I released my grip and peered inside.

The sound of water rushing grew louder, and as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of this new cavern, I saw that the water must be behind yet another set of doors, these last were set flat on the ground, and there were two huge winches to assist in opening them. Scattered about the room with only a modicum of order were a collection of large round storage barrels, nearly as tall as my shoulder. The floor beneath my feet was wet; there were great puddles scattered about the floor. A slick stream of water flowed down the wall beside me, and across the floor, only to disappear into the crack between the doors.

Cautiously I approached the doors. I had no idea how to operate the winches, and I could tell that the doors were much too heavy and awkward to open myself. I was miserable. I had failed to find a way out again. So intent was I at examining the situation, that I did not notice the deep puddle in front of me. As I walked forward, my foot landed solidly in about an inch of water and slid sideways. I fell to the ground, landing heavily on my leg and back. The filthy wetness on the floor soaked my clothes and hair. I was not hurt, just badly startled, but I could feel tears of frustration and anger welling up inside me.

Suddenly, I froze and held my breath. I thought heard the sound of voices.

"Here! I am in here!" I called out from my place on the floor, but my relief was short lived.

"I hear him. He is down this way," came a voice.

It was the voice of the king.

Quickly I scrambled to right myself. Without thinking I fled and hid behind one of the upturned barrels. The king himself was coming for me. That could not bode well.

Three elves entered the room. Two of them were dressed in livery and stood poised for action. The third was the king. He was taller than the other two and was still dressed in the finery from the dinner. He seemed tense, although he carried himself with dignified grace. They stood silently for a moment, listening and looking for me. I bit my lip and tried hard not to breathe, but my lungs betrayed me. I took a quick breath and then froze again.

"He is in here," said the king. "Wait for me in the hall. I will find him."

I stared up at the king as the two guards left. I did not want to be alone with the king. He did not see me. Slowly, he took three steps into the room, then cocked his head to listen. With the grace of a cat seeking her prey, he scanned the room slowly. The torchlight distorted his features, playing shadows across his face, making his eyes shine brightly. I fully expected him to brandish his knife and hunt me out, but instead he gracefully eased himself against the side of a barrel and crossed his arms.

He took a deep, slow breath, and in a voice that was as gentle as the sunrise, but brokered no disobedience and said, "Come out when you are ready, Legolas."

I was dumbfounded.

"Who told you that was my name?" I demanded from the safety of my hiding place. He had called me that other name before.

The king made no move to find me. He leaned forward a little bit and replied, "Your mother did, nethben, the day that you were born. Legolas is your mother name. I will call you that if you like."

"I don't want you to call me anything," I said, standing in the shadows, suddenly angry at the stranger who sat before me. "You are a bad king. You frightened me, and you ate my fish! You smile for everyone else, but you don't like me!"

"I do like you," protested the king, "I like you very much, I just --"

"No you don't, you hate me!" I shouted,

"Why would I hate you?" asked the king. His voice was concerned, but there was also the undertone of anxiety that just confirmed my suspicions.

I moved then, so that he could see my face. I scowled as I looked into his eyes. I would not be afraid of this king. I would be strong.

"I don't know why you hate me," I said, "But Galion said that you did."

"Galion said that I hate you?" He seemed genuinely puzzled. "When did Galion say that I hate you?"

"He said that you were grieved when I was born. My mother faded, and you decided to send me away."

"Legolas, I don't hate you."

"And and Talagand said that you would rather fight with the dark creatures of the Necromancer that to stay with me."

"But Legolas, –"

I could tell that the king was getting upset. I did not want him mad at me, but it was wrong for him to hate me, especially when he seemed to like everybody else.

"And you are always upset with me and frightened!"

"I am not frightened of you!" He shouted. The king was angry and his eyes glared. He took a step forward. Immediately I dove for the safety behind the barrel. He stopped himself, then, and rubbed his forehead with his hand. I could hear him breathing deeply and slowly. When he spoke again, his voice was tense, but quieter, almost a whisper.

"Ai, Legolas. I am sorry. You are truly your mother's son."

I edged away from the barrel, and looked at the king. "You knew my mother?" It was a stupid question, but one I had to ask. I could not fathom why my mother would like this man.

The king chuckled, "Yes, nethben, I knew your mother." Slowly, the king took a step back and then eased himself onto the floor.

"You'll get wet!" I protested, thinking of the fine clothes covered with mud.

"You are more important than clean clothes, Legolas, and I need to talk with you." Even seated, his head was not that much lower than my own.

I scowled at him. I was afraid, and he knew it. I did not come to him, but I did come closer. I spread my feet, crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. "I am listening."

He considered my posture before speaking. "I see." He paused. "You have listened to Galion and listened to Talagand, do you think you could listen to me?" I nodded and dropped my eyes.

"Your mother and I loved one another deeply, Legolas. She was the delight of my heart. We were well matched in many ways. I often knew her thoughts, and she often knew mine. She could make me laugh in a way that few could."

"She liked to sing," I added, coming a bit closer. I was always hungry for tales about my mother. The king looked at me, and smiled.

"Yes, Legolas, she loved to sing and to be with growing things."

"And to climb trees?" I asked.

Thranduil chuckled, "Yes, nethben. She was very good at climbing trees."

"But then she died," I said.

"But only after you were born. You were the Song of our love, Legolas. You were more precious than all the jewels of Arda. You were more welcome than the spring, and we both loved you."

I watched the king carefully. He seemed to be telling the truth.

"When your mother died, a huge piece of my soul was torn away. It was by far the most painful thing I have ever experienced. I still count the days and the hours and the minutes until we can be reunited. Living without her hurts all the time." The king paused. I did not move a muscle. For a time, the king did not notice me; he was lost in his own thoughts. Then he came to himself and gave me a half smile.

"I am a warrior, Legolas. When I leave these halls for battle, I do not know if I will return. I could not afford to have you love me, nethben, because if I died I feared it would wound you as your mother's death has wounded me." My eyes met his. "I would not have you suffer like that, Legolas. I thought it wiser to send you to a happier home." I looked away. "I do not hate you, child. I love you more than you will ever know."

I crept closer to the king, and knelt beside him, so that I was looking up into his face then asked soberly, "Would Naneth approve of your sending me away? We will meet her someday, you know."

The king's eyes grew wide and his mouth opened as though he were going to say something, but then he thought better of it. He looked down at his hands and sighed. "I never thought of that. No, Legolas, probably not. She would chide me for worrying too much about the future and not celebrating the moment."

It was very quiet, save for the swirling sounds of the river beneath us. I considered the words I had just heard. Perhaps there was some truth to what the king was saying. He didn't seem so angry any more, he was sad.

"You were right, Legolas," said the king at last, "I am frightened when I am near you."

"What are you frightened of?" I asked.

The king sighed and hid his eyes behind his hand.

"I am afraid," he said in a very small voice, "That you might not love me." He looked at me and smiled regretfully. "I have been such a fool, Legolas. If you had stayed with me I would have had a reminder of your mother's love with me all the time. I would have been there for your young days and given you the love that you deserved. It was so dark in the days surrounding your birth. I wish that I could have held on to you. You might have given me reason to hope."

My heart shifted then, and I saw the king for who he really was. He was no longer frightening or mean. He was family, and he was lonely. I climbed onto his lap. "Don't worry, Ada," I said at last, "I am here now." He wrapped his arms around me and drew me close. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heart. I was home. 

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_Thank you for reading._

_Please feed the muse and there will be more to come!_

_All notes and concrits are welcome._

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	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Dawn had only just broken the next morning when I woke to the smell of grilled fish. Sleepily I opened my eyes and rolled over to see what was going on. Dimly I could see the silhouette of the king against the grey dawn of the morning. He was dressed in a simple tunic and carried a trencher in his hand. He grinned when he saw that I had awakened and placed the trencher on the table beside a pot of hot water.

"Good morning _ion nin_," he said warmly, "Come and see what I've fetched for you."

I opened my eyes wide and slid out of bed. There was no mistaking the smell. My mouth began to water. I looked at the king in amazement. He had brought me fresh fish, grilled plain.

The king laughed at my discomfit. "I am sorry for the earliness of the hour, Legolas, but Heledirn would have my hide if he found me working in his kitchen. As it is I had to promise great things to the breakfast crew to be allowed to make this for you."

The grin on his face was infectious, and I found myself grinning in return. Then with a shock I remembered that the king was my father. "Thank you, Ada," I sputtered. My father only laughed and pulled out the chair so that I could be seated. Then he seated himself across from me and poured me a cup of tea.

"I have been told to stay in bed for another day," he said as I set about eating the fish, "but there are many things that are waiting my attention. I'll need to work in my office for a good part of the morning, but you're welcome to join me there. Say, Legolas, slow down," he said, noting my progress through the fish, "you'll burn your fingers that way."

I looked up at him, "I'm sorry," I said, and tried to comply.

"At any rate, the afternoon should be free. So long as we do nothing strenuous, - or perhaps you have ideas?"

I paused and looked again at the king. His demeanor was completely changed from what had been before. The elf before me was calm and confident and, well, joyful. I smiled at him, allowing the light to shine from my soul. "I'd like to be with you," I said truthfully, but is your office in the caves?"

"I'm afraid that it is, _nethben_," said Ada, "but we don't need to be there all day."

I nodded and dove into the fish again. 

The king's office was a midsized cavern not that far from the entrance to the yard. It had a wide window that overlooked the yard, although its lighting was augmented by red lanterns along the interior walls. A thick woven rug had been set on the floor, and the cloth felt soft and springy to my feet. The room itself was dominated by a large desk of dark oak on one side, and a table with eight chairs around it on the other. There were several pictures on the walls that I came to learn later were maps of Mirkwood; both the area surrounding the Halls, as well as some detailed drawings of the southern reaches. The room was spotless, save for the piles of papers strewn in disarray in the desk. We entered the room, and the king looked around as though seeing things for the first time.

"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, little one," he said with a sigh, "There doesn't seem a clear place for you to play while I work."

"Don't worry," I said, "I often have to wait for Nathel when she's busy with things. I'll just go exploring." With that I pulled one of the heavy chairs out from the table and ducked under the table to see what I could find.

I spent the morning alternately playing quietly and watching my father work. He seemed quite a bit better; the circles were all but gone from under his eyes. He spent a good deal of time pushing the papers around, and scratching at them with a bit of stick. Sometimes someone would come in and they would talk about things that I did not understand, but then they would leave and he would return to his papers. Finally, I could contain my curiosity no longer.

"Ada?" I asked at last from my perch on a chair, "Why do you spend so much time pushing those papers about? Why don't we just go outside?

"I'd love to spend more time outside, Legolas, but these papers contain business that I must deal with. This one, for instance, tells me of the shipment we received from Laketown. This other one tells me about the provisioning of the soldiers who are on patrol."

I climbed down and walked over to stand beside him. There were many papers on his desk, most of them were quite covered with black lines made in ink. "Those are just papers with lines upon them. Why do you say that they speak to you?"

My father turned and gave me his full attention. "Black lines, eh? So you have not learned to read or write? No, of course not. They would not have taught you this in the village."

I bristled a little when he said this, for I would not have any one speaking poorly of my home, but then he continued kindly, "Legolas, these lines are writing. They capture the words and hold on to them so that their meaning can be conveyed without my being there."

I looked at him skeptically. I had never heard of such a thing.

"Look," he said, pulling a small piece of paper in front of him. "I'll write your name, Legolas Thrandulion." He marked the paper with several elegant forms. "We will write it thus, and also ask that Galion join us here." He made some more marks, "Now take this to the messenger outside the door, and ask him to deliver it to Galion. Don't tell him what has been written."

I obeyed and returned to my place at his elbow.  
"How will he know what you have written?" I asked.

"He will read it, _nethben_. He knows how to make the writing speak."

"Will the paper really talk to him?" I envisioned Galion putting the paper up by his ear.

My father laughed and put his arm around my shoulders, "No, he will use his eyes. Let me show you again." I looked on as he pointed to some shapes on the paper before him. "That is the shape for king, and these make up the parts of my name, Thranduil. Here, look at this. Can you find the shapes for Thranduil at the top of this paper?"

I looked carefully at the paper he was pointing at. "There! I see it. It's those lines right there!"

He smiled, "Very good. Now watch and I will write my name."

"Can I help?" I asked. I put my hand over his larger hand as he wrote.

We were just finishing when there was a knock at the door and Galion entered the room, with a perplexed look on his face, "Was there a reason you sent me this paper with Legolas' name on it?"

I giggled and ran to Galion, "It's the writing, Galion. It's talking to you!" I ran back to my father, "Let's do another one! Let's see if Galion can read what we just wrote."

To my father's credit, he did not begrudge me my excitement, but set aside his work to spend time with me. The next few hours went quickly with Galion and my father taking turns showing me the rudiments of _tengwar_, the basis of Elven writing. By midafternoon I could readily write my own name and a few lines from the welcoming song. I wanted to learn Nadar, Nathel, and Brethilas, but my father deferred. "Perhaps later," he promised vaguely.

I would have gladly continued on with my studies, but in the early afternoon the office door opened and a lean and rather somber looking elf entered the room. I was standing at my father's elbow when he arrived, and I could sense a sigh of resignation from my father. He did not verbalize this, but lay a facade of pleasantness upon his face and said, "Amondorn, you've come at last. What tasks have you accumulated for your liege lord today?"

Amondorn bowed deeply. "I have more than you should probably bear, given your condition, my lord. But my primary objective for today is to simply make the acquaintance of your son."

My father smiled and relaxed a bit. "You are most welcome, then, for the young Thranduilion seems to thrive on meeting people." He turned to me. "Legolas, allow me to present Amondorn, one of my primary advisors. He is Iathren. He served with my father in Doriath. I am honored to call him friend."

Amondorn bowed again, "The pleasure is mine, young prince."  
I gazed at my father and then at Amondorn. They did seem to be friends. "How is it that you burden my father if you say you are friends?" I asked, perplexed. "Are you his teacher then?"

Both laughed at that. "I've known your father since his conception day," said the older elf, "and I have been sworn to serve his house since the second age. Your grandfather Oropher and I grew up together," he continued, "so there is very little that I do not know about Thranduil and his kingdom. I derive a modicum of satisfaction to see him successfully ruling the people of the Green Wood, and if you will have me I will swear the same loyalty to you."

I smiled at Amondorn. "You don't need to swear to me Amondorn." I said. I was not sure what he meant. "We can be friends if you like. Would you like for me to write something for you? Adar and Galion have shown me how." I picked up the pen and wrote my name carefully. "There," I said when it was finished, "I will write your name now, if you will teach me."

Amondorn chuckled, "Not bad for the first day, young prince. Would you like to learn more tomorrow? I taught your father how to write when he was young."

I looked at my father. I could not quite imagine him as young. I would much rather learn reading and writing from him, but I nodded obediently. Perhaps Amondorn would have some stories to tell me about my father's youth.

"The other reason I've come to see you," said Amondorn, turning his attention once again to the king. "Is that there were a number of situations that developed during your absence that you need to be updated on. Do you think I could see you privately this afternoon to tend to them?" He looked critically at my father, "We can confer in your rooms if you need to rest," he added.

My disappointment at being dismissed from my father's company was tempered by the fact that I had been sitting relatively still for most of the day. My body wanted to move. My father looked at me for a long moment, then reached for his pen and wrote a note on a piece of paper. "Legolas, I have a job for you. I'd like for you to take this to Ereglin and follow the directions I have written. Can you do that?"

I squirmed with delight. I wondered if Ereglin would be able to read the writing. "Yes, Ada," I said.

"The guard outside the door will lead you directly to Ereglin," said my father, "I think I will retire to my rooms for the rest of the day. I will see you this evening, Legolas, before you go to bed."

I wasn't sure if I should bow or simply leave. My father solved the problem by scooping me into a warm embrace and kissing me on the forehead. "Until later, _ion nin_."

I nodded and left.

Ereglin and I had a wonderful afternoon together. He had an easy way about him and laughed often. My father's directions had him familiarizing me with the more commonly travelled corridors of the caverns. He took me from the entrance to my rooms and from my rooms to the kitchen several times, until I was quite sure of the way. When I told him of the great chair that I had found, he looked at me in confusion and then laughed.

"You must have found the throne room, Legolas," he said. "I'd be happy to show you the way. It is the only part of the caverns that are open to the Men and Dwarfs that visit here." He turned and ushered me into a new corridor.

"Have you ever seen a Man?" I asked, trotting to keep up with him.

"Oh, there are frequently Men of one sort or another that visit the king," he said airily.

"Have you ever talked to a Man?" I asked.

Ereglin stopped and looked at me, "Why would I want to do that?" he asked, "They are strange creatures, to be sure. Did you know that their skin wrinkles like cloth when they get old?"

I looked at him and frowned. I didn't like to be teased.

The passageway took a sharp turn to the right and I realized that there was no glow of the lantern beyond where we stood. I slowed my steps and put my hand into Ereglin's. I did not want to feel the lostness again.

"Easy does it, Legolas," he said gently, "look the lamplighter is already here."

As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I could see the form of an elf busy at work.

"Anorthel!" I said, not hiding my relief.

The lamplighter looked up from his work and smiled, "_Mae govenan_, my lord. I beg pardon for not bowing, but I have no desire to spill pitch on the floor."

"Pitch?" I asked. I walked closer and peered at Anorthel's hands. He was holding a darkened torch with one hand and with the other was pouring a thick and foul smelling liquid into a cavity at the head of the torch.

"Well, that is part of the mess," Anorthel said conversationally. "The cavity in the torch here is actually lined with metal and then with pitch. This liquid is torch piss, a combination of animal fat, bat guano and sap." He carefully set the jar of liquid down. "We'll slow down the burn rate with some cedar bark twine," He shoved a length of brown cord into the mixture until the cavity was filled. "Add a lid with a cat tail wick coming from the top." He quickly added a length of cat tail fluff that had been rolled into a wick. "There you have it. It should burn for three days if I've done it right."

I looked at the elf with open eyed amazement. "But there are so many torches here. Do you light them all?"

Anorthel laughed, "I would never work that hard," he said. "There are a full score of us in the lamplighters' guild. I light about fifty torches per day, but I certainly don't work every day. Only the king works that hard." He set the torch back in its bracket and waved his hand across the wick. The flame sputtered then flared.

"My nadar could light fires like that. Would you show me how to do it?" I asked.

Anorthel grinned, "Not today, my prince. You are a little young yet. What brings you to this corner of the caverns?"

"The king has requested that Legolas become familiar with the corridors," said Ereglin "so that he doesn't get lost again."

"Well that seems a fair way to spend the afternoon," said Anorthel. He picked up his jar of torch piss and bowed, "With all due respect, I've got a dozen left until I'm done."

After meeting Anorthel my fear of the corridors was quite abated. I was filled with the urge to explore all of the torch lit caverns. Ereglin was an indulgent guide and we trekked through corridors and caverns for miles. A whole new world unfolded before me as we examined the myriad of magnificent stone formations, the reliefs and murals and the many rooms that made up the Halls of Thranduil.

"I don't even mind being underground anymore," I declared bravely as Ereglin helped me through a fairly narrow passage.

"Well you'll never be in a safer place," said Ereglin. He squeezed my hand.

"Safe from what, Ereglin?" I had not thought of all this stone being safe.

"You know, the Necromancer and his creatures of darkness."

I paused and looked at Ereglin, "You mean like those crows that I saw on the way here?"

"What crows, Legolas?" I had his undivided attention.

"The crebain, Ereglin. They were huge and there was a large flock of them that flew over the stream where I was playing. They were so frightening. I wanted to cry and curl up at the same time. I am fine now," I said, noting Ereglin's look of alarm and concern, "Galion came and held me."

"Did you tell the king of this?" he demanded.

"No, do you think I should have?" The worry in Ereglin's voice made me feel anxious inside.

"It is not good to hear of such things so close to the Keep," said the Ereglin soberly, "You should tell him as soon as you can." He smiled. "But the crebain will not find us in here, little prince," he said with a false lightness to his voice, "I think it is nearly suppertime. We should go to the kitchen and see if we can talk Heledirn into giving us a crust of bread." Ereglin took my hand and led me towards the kitchen. He did not let go of my hand the whole way there.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

There was a large battered oak table in the kitchen of the Halls that had at one time been a fine piece of furniture. Heavy use over the years had rendered it worn and dented. At some point it had been shoved into an alcove of the great kitchen amidst a cluster of equally worn chairs. It was here that the kitchen workers would pause to enjoy a cup of tea, or grab a quick snack to fortify themselves for the tasks at hand. When Ereglin and I arrived at the kitchen that evening, I was set at the head of this venerable table and plied with questions and comments from any number of the kitchen crew as they paused from their efforts to visit with me. I thoroughly enjoyed the attention and wound up taking my meal with them, savoring both their laughter and their conversation as I ate.

"You know," I said, as we made our way back to the rooms, "Nathel's fire circle is much like that table in the kitchen. Nathel is one of the best cooks in the village, and family is always stopping by to sample her stew or have a cup of tea. Sometimes they don't go away until late in the evening and Brethilas and I lie on our talan and listen to the music of their talking and laughing until we fall asleep."

Ereglin smiled. "Are all the people in your village family?"

I nodded. "I think so, at least. Except for maybe Istuilalf. He's Avari and he's older and wiser than anybody."

"Is he the leader, then?"

I wrinkled my nose, "Why would he want to be leader? No, they make Celthar do it. He complains a lot, but he does a good job. He tells the funniest stories about things that happen when he and Duimeth go out hunting. He promised me that Brethilas and I could go with him this summer and-" I stopped suddenly. "Oh, Ereglin I have to go home. I'm supposed to start bow training this summer."

"I don't doubt there will be many things you miss about your home, little one. Talk to the king and see what he says. In the meantime, my mother tends fire at our talan near here. Would you like to come for a visit sometime soon?"

I looked at him sharply, "There is a village near here?" I asked, thinking of home.

"Probably not like your home," Ereglin amended quickly, "But wood elves don't sleep in caves."

"I do," I said promptly, "although I would rather not."

"My point precisely," said Ereglin,

I nodded, "I'd like to visit your home, Ereglin."

When we got to my rooms the dusky rose of a late sunset could be seen from the window. Ereglin left for other duties and I climbed to my perch on the sill. The woods below were beautiful in the dimming light. I could make out the pale green of the spring foliage on the birch that surrounded the little lake. I stayed at my post until the night sky gathered overhead and several stars could be seen. I sang for awhile and then sat silently, allowing the evening air to balance me from the activities of the day. My reverie was interrupted by the cadence of voices that could be heard faintly from behind the curtained door.

Curious, I climbed down from my post and slid behind the curtain to the little wooden door. I could hear my father's voice and that of another. Now, I had already listened to many trees in my life. Listening to the wood was something I did frequently. Even though my last listening at this door had been frightening, I wondered if I should try listening again. Carefully, I put my ear to the door.

"Are we done yet, Amondorn?" That was my father.

"Only that I know you will be reporting your findings to the council tomorrow. Did you want to review them with me beforehand?"

"I would just as soon forget the whole thing," said my father wearily. There was a pause. "I wish I knew for sure the identity of the dark presence at Dol Guldur. We see his minions and the desecration he has caused, but even under our careful watch, he has not shown his hand. I fear that he is slowly growing in power, with the total destruction of either our woods or Lorien in his sights."

I was reminded of the darkness of the crows by the river. I knelt so that my legs would not get tired and listened again.

"A Nazgul, perhaps?"

"Perhaps, but on this visit I sensed something greater than a Nazgul. It has been two long-years since I've been across the Enchanted River, Amondorn. Things have changed and not for the better. Some of it is not new. The woods near the river is intact, but in as little as two days' journey in it is showing severe signs of stress. The old growth is dropping limbs. The understory is sparse as though winnowed by pestilence or disease. In the evenings there is a miasma that hangs in the air that you can almost touch with your hands. The webs of Shelob's spawn are everywhere. I knew that I sensed there was new movement afoot. This trip just confirmed it. Ah, Amondorn, I fear we are entering into some grave times."

"What did you see of the orcs?"

"Mercifully few were met in combat, but the evidence of their passing was all around us. There are any number of paths leading randomly through the afflicted forest almost as though they wished to disrupt the ground cover as much as possible. Many of the tributaries are fouled with sewage. They seem to take delight in taking down the old growth and using the branches for firewood. They don't take time to hunt, but set traps to capture game. Gonnel found himself strung by his legs when he accidently tripped a counterweight trap as he traversed a hillside. We got him down promptly enough, but the whole area is riddled with danger."

"Did you see any signs of permanent dwellings from the orcs?"

"Thormor wouldn't let me get that close, but the spies that he sent reported several sites that might hold orcs year round. Even if they are not seeking battle, the devastation they are bringing to the woods is horrendous . I fear they will reach the river soon, and if they cross it our current troop numbers will not be enough. Thormor is right, Amondorn. We don't have the resources to withstand much of an increase in their forces."

There was silence. I could feel the weight of sorrow in my father's heart. Finally, Amondorn asked, "Was there anything else?"

My father laughed a short, dry laugh, "Is that not enough for you, Amondorn? Well, try this; the spiders may well decimate our troops before the orcs become a problem. We were well into retreat when I was waylaid. One of the reasons I was so hard to find is that Thormor didn't think that spiders were in the area. It never occurred to him that I might be lying paralyzed in a gully. No, by my reckoning, two companies in particular will have to set watch for spiders within the season. To add to that, we've still got those four villages in the south, each with an overabundance of women and children."

I felt the tension in my father's voice and bit my lip to keep from calling out to him.

"Can we move them?"

There was a moment of silence. Whether my father was taking a sip of wine or considering his next words, I could not say. There was renewed weariness in his voice as he spoke again.

"Amondorn, may I remind you that one does not simply move a village of Laegrim? They have no language for living _in _the forest. The wood elves are _of _the forest in the truest sense. Three times the people of those four villages moved at my request, and each time it took years for them to adapt. They flatly refused to come away from danger during the last relocation. I have no power within my disposal to get them to move, and I can't offer them any hope of security."

"What alternatives do we have, Thranduil? How will you raise an army?"

I could hear my father sigh heavily. "The Silvans are not warriors, Amondorn. They are wise in the way of the woods, they have the very best of hearts, but they do not fight well."

"They have done well enough against the Dark One to date." protested Amondorn. There was another pause, then, "Do you still hold what happened at the Battle of Dagorlad against them?" Silence again. "Look, Thranduil, your father made a grievous tactical error and lost two thirds of his army. Only one in three made it home, but the heaviest losses were among Silvans. That they still hold loyal to your house after that blunder is amazing. Why do you lay the blame with them?"

"I do not blame them!" retorted my father. "But I was there, Amondorn. I saw them fight. The agility and swiftness that so marks them as creatures of the wood was seriously lacking in that setting. They fight by ones and twos with proficiency, but they simply don't have the discipline needed to fight as a military unit. My father's plan brought him to the field prematurely, but the slaughter of the wood elves would have been far less catastrophic if they had fought like an army, not as individuals swept up in the winds of war. Don't you see? They were overwhelmed on the battlefield because they could not hold the line."

"And what of the past two thousand years, my liege? Have they failed to serve you well since the dark one has returned?"

"I have no complaints of their service, save this; they are people created for building and healing, for singing the Song and for bringing joy to each day. To have them spill their blood to keep the Necromancer contained is a debt I swear I will settle one day, no matter the cost to me. Even now I do not send them into the fray without a company of Sindar at hand. Even those of blended blood fight better. To ask a Silvan to fight is to ask him to deny himself, and yet we have Silvan warriors, many Silvan warriors, who serve and fight and die without complaint. No, I am a fortunate king to have such precious hearts in my fold. I only grieve that I cannot equip them to rid the woods of the Necromancer altogether."

There was silence for a time. A cramp started to form in my left leg, but I ignored it.

"Why can't you train them better, Thranduil? Even now you have them spending years in training."

"I can't because it isn't a matter of training the body. It's a matter of bending the soul to destroy something -an end that will break their hearts. I will not have them give up the very thing that they are defending!"

"And yet you need to prepare for more of a fight, my friend. There are not enough Sindar and those of blended blood for the task; unless you would have those villages walk willingly into the clutches of darkness."

"Don't be ridiculous!" snapped the king.

I did not hear Amondron, for at that moment my leg cramped more tightly, and as I bent to rub it my elbow hit the side of the door with a thud. Before I could gather my wits, the door was opened and I found myself looking up into the surprised eyes of the king's advisor.

"Legolas!" he said in a surprised voice, "What do you think you are doing?"

"I am listening," I said, stammering.

"You are spying on us, you mean," said Amondorn sternly. His eyes grew dark with anger.

I looked to my father for support. I didn't understand the reason for Amondorn's wrath. My father was not happy either. I felt worry clutch my stomach. "Ada, please," I begged, "I was just listening."

"Come here, Legolas," said my father calmly. I walked over and stood in front of him.

"Explain to Amondorn and me exactly what you were doing."

I looked to Amondorn and back to my father and spoke slowly. "I was listening, Ada." He said nothing, so I continued, "Nathel was always telling me that listening is one of the most important things we can do. Nadar taught me how to listen to a tree." My father raised his eyebrows in a question. I continued, "If you put your ear to the wood of one of the great boughs you can listen to the song of the tree."

"The song of the tree?" queried my father. I nodded.

"The way that the branches creak in the wind can tell you the health and the age of the tree, but there is also the sound of the squirrels and birds as they move about the branches. The sound moves through the wood." I gestured with my hands, "Sometimes you can even hear the sound of the insects eating if they have gotten under the bark of the tree and are attacking the sapwood." I leaned against Ada's knee. "I want to be a forester when I grow up, Ada, so I must learn to listen to the wood."

"You will make a good tauron when you grow up," said my father gravely. He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I looked over at Amondorn. He was looking at me oddly.

"I can't listen to the trees here in the cave," I explained quietly, "but the door is of wood. When I heard your voices speaking I knew that I should listen to the wood, so I put my ear to the door."

Amondorn's shoulders were shaking and there was an odd look on his face. He bit his lower lip, then looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose with finger and thumb. After watching him for a moment, I realized that he was trying not to laugh. "Thranduil," he said at last, "I think we have a Laegel in our midst." He looked at me and his eyes were kind again.

"Tell me, Legolas, what did you hear through the wood this time?" my father asked, redirecting my gaze.

I looked at him earnestly. "Mostly that you were sad when that spider bit you and you couldn't be found. You are worried about the spread of the darkness, and you grieve that you may need your people to move again. But then you said that it was too bad that the wood elves couldn't fight better, and you don't want them to fight, so now they will die." I was a little confused about the end of the conversation, but I gave it my best.

The king looked very serious. "You listen very well, Legolas, but I need to tell you that listening at the door was wrong. The words that are spoken in this room must stay in this room. If retold in the wrong way they could make people sad or angry or afraid. What would happen if word got back to the village that I had spoken those things?"

My eyes grew wide as I thought of the consequences. "But Ada," I protested, "Nathel says that our words belong to the woods, and not to say anything that cannot be sung from the tops of the trees. You should not have said those things."

"There are the ways of the woods, and the ways of Thranduil's Halls," interjected Amondorn. "Two ways of looking at things. Your Nathel's perspective was valid in the village, but in the Halls things must stay in their proper places."

"I am sorry," I said in a small voice. "I will leave now, and the words will stay in this room." I turned to leave. I really didn't want my father's disapproval, but I was still confused as to why listening was wrong. I really wanted to just go home, which reminded me of something.

"Ada," I returned to my place at his knee, and let the words spill forth, "I need to ask you something. I don't want to leave you, but I must get home for the summer. Celthar has promised to start my bow training, and I need to help Nathel sing to the crops and Istuilalf has promised to teach me more songs. When can I go home, I mean to my other home?"

My father looked at me for a moment, and then looked at Amondorn. "Well, advisor?" he asked, "How shall we handle this situation?"

Amondorn considered for a moment, "Legolas, you must understand that the people here have been waiting for you for a long time. So long as you were not with them, they could tolerate the idea that you would come to them some day, but now that you are here they will not willingly let you go. You are their prince, and you belong here with your father."

"But I am important at home as well!" I insisted. "Ada, I don't want to leave you, but I must go home. Everyone here has been very kind, but . . ." I felt panic rising in my chest.

"Legolas, hear me out," said my father holding me close, "You have only just arrived here. This is a conversation for a later time. Having their king missing for a time really shook the confidence of our people. They need to see that I am safe and that you are safe with me. They need to see that there is nothing to fear. Then we can talk about your visiting your aunt and uncle again."

Visiting. Visiting? At that moment I realized that my life had irrevocably shifted. I would never be "of the village" again, but "of Thranduil's Halls," allowed at the discretion of others to visit my beloved family. I clung to my father and began to cry. He pulled me into his lap and held me close, allowing my tears to fall until the pain in my heart began to ease.

"It is not safe yet," I said at last, still hiding my eyes in his chest.

"What do you mean, neth ben?"

I told him of the crebain I had seen and the dark fear that had filled my soul as I stood in the stream. "I was not harmed," I said, when I saw the growing concern on his face, "Galion was there to comfort me."

"How many were there?" asked Amondorn, "and where were they headed?"

I dried my tears with the back of my hand and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and visioned what I had seen. "They were about three score in number and they were headed north."

"I do not like this at all," growled my father. "Why wasn't it reported to me?"

"Maybe it was reported in a different room." I said. My father looked at me perplexed. "You know," I persisted, "a room where the words can't leave."

My father smiled and hugged me close. "I am glad you are here, Legolas Thranduilion. He turned to his advisor, "Amondorn, send for Galion right away. I need to know the names of the soldiers who went to retrieve Legolas. Find them and bring them here at once." His voice was strong and sharp. I was glad it was not directed at me.

But my father had not forgotten me, "I think your day has been long, little one." He said gently. He set me on my feet, "Those soldiers will be a while in coming. I think we had best get you into bed."

He led me through the curtained door and handed me over to the care of Gwenen. "I will check on you before I retire," he promised, then he pulled the door closed, making sure to latch it.

Once I was alone with Gwenen, I found that I was very tired. I quickly prepared for sleep and climbed up on the high bed. As I snuggled into the softness of the deep pillow, I realized that the faint smell of fish still lingered in the air from the morning. I smiled and sighed deeply as I surrendered myself to sleep.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Ereglin looked different when he came to my room the next morning, and I realized with a start that he was not wearing the livery green of the keep. He was dressed instead in a light tunic of homespun weave with blue trousers underneath. The smile on his face put a sparkle into his brown eyes. "Good morning, Legolas," he nearly sang, "I've gotten permission for you to come to our fire today!"

I was out of bed and dressed in a moment. I would have dressed in my clothes from home, but they were nowhere to be found. I settled for a simple tunic of the color of bluebells in midsummer with a minimum of embroidery, and leggings to match.

"You did not bring breakfast," I commented to Ereglin as Gwenen helped me with my hair.

"I thought we would go down to the kitchen and find something to take with us," said Ereglin, "I saw Selediel bringing in a large basket of breads when I was walking in this morning. There might be honey cakes."

I laughed and ran to the door, "What are you waiting for Ereglin?"

Our stop at the kitchen was short. One of the kitchen workers wrapped a half dozen honey cakes and some cheese and bread in a soft cloth and placed them in a small pack. Ereglin added a filled water skin to the collection and we were on our way.

It had rained in the night, which left the morning air fresh and filled with the promise of new growth. Gwenen had allowed me out without boots, and I relished the feeling of cool wet stone under my feet as we crossed the bridge. The river ran right up against the ramparts in some places and was both wide and deep. It was high from the rains and sang a lively song. I stopped at the crest of the bridge to look upriver. I could just make out the scoops of Heledirn's fish traps in the distance. I took a deep breath and sang a soft welcome to the morning as I looked at the sky. It was going to be a beautiful day.

I came back to myself and caught Ereglin gazing at me, a wide smile on his face. "You really are Laegren," he said with pleased satisfaction, "my family will enjoy meeting you."

We walked barely a quarter mile along the road when Ereglin veered sharply to the left onto a track that was all but hidden in the underbrush. I followed him willingly for another quarter mile into the dense woods, when I heard a light trilling and laughter in the trees. I looked up, but could not see anyone. We progressed further into the woods, passing a cluster of beech and maple. The laughter came again, closer this time. I stopped, determined to find the source. I narrowed my eyes and peered into the upper stories of the woods. Suddenly, there was the sound of two feet lightly hitting the ground behind me. I spun around. At first I thought it was a _tauron_, dressed in green leggings with a dark green tunic to match, but then I heard her laugh again, and I knew I was in the presence of a _tauril_, a maiden steward of the forest.

"_Mae govenan_, my liege," said the sprite, bowing gracefully at the waist and grinning. Her eyes twinkled. "I see that my brother still walks like a bear." She turned to look at Erelin, "Are you going to introduce us, or shall I do it myself?"

"Peace, Gaelin. Legolas is only newly arrived. You don't want to go scaring him off."

"Oh, I'm not afraid," I said, returning Gaelin's smile, "I am also going to be a tauron when I grow up."

"Is that so?" asked Gaelin, raising her eyebrows, "a prince and a forester both?"

"Well, I didn't know about the prince part until a few days ago," I explained, "but my uncle says that my fea is bound to the soul of the woods. I'm already working with Istuilalf to learn the songs."

"A singer, eh?" said Erelin.

"Istuilalf?" asked Gaelin at the same moment, "He is Avarren, one of the masters of the Deep Song?"

I nodded, pleased that she knew of him. "I have only begun my studies, but I can already sing one of the Deep Songs."

Gaelin whistled between her teeth. "Truly, eh? We will have to talk of this further. I am on watch until this evening. Someday we'll have to work together, you and I, Prince Legolas." And with grin and a bow that was just short of mockery she turned and ran swiftly to the trees.

I stared after her as she disappeared. She reminded me of the _gwilwileth_, the butterflies that tumbled over the flowers in the meadow on the hill. "That was your sister?" I asked finally.

Ereglin nodded, feigning displeasure, "She has always been a like that. I am sorry if she was rude."

"Oh, no," I protested, "Do you think that she meant what she said?"

"What was that?"

"About allowing me to work with her?" I asked.

Ereglin shrugged, "She's not a master yet, but I've heard that she is very good. I can ask her if you'd like."

I nodded. "Can we go to your talan now?'

Ereglin bowed and waved me onward with his hand.

I smelled the smoke from the fire before we arrived. I caught sight of the corner of a large talan in the branches of a great white oak some distance ahead. It took me a moment to locate the clearing where a fire crackled merrily in the confines of a stone fire ring. It was surrounded with three large logs for sitting on. A dark haired figure was stoking the fire beneath a steaming cauldron.

"_Naneth_, I have come," announced Ereglin as he stepped into the clearing. I followed at Ereglin's heels.

"Welcome _ion nin_," said the woman, looking up. She wiped her hands carefully on a cloth. "You have brought the prince with you? Come, let us be introduced." Ereglin's mother set aside the cloth, rose from her place at the fire and looked at me with eyes as brown and lively as her son's. She extended her hands in welcome. I grasped them firmly.  
"_Mae govenan_," I said politely.

"I am Aegliriel," she said, without waiting for introductions, "My but you are your mother's son," she said clicking her tongue behind her teeth. She dropped my hands and tipped her head, "You have her eyes and her spirit. Welcome to my fire, little one, what I have is yours."

"What I have is yours," I responded, "You knew my mother?"

Aegliriel smiled and nodded. "I served Lethriliel for a time. Come, have a seat by the fire."

I nodded and obeyed, sitting on a fallen log with my hands on my lap. I found that I really wanted to make a good impression on Aegliriel. She laughed gently at me, "You don't have to lean so much on formality, Prince Legolas, unless that is what you wish?" I shook my head, and she laughed again. She took a cup from a tray near the fire and scooped a cup of hot water from the cauldron. Deftly she twisted a few dried leaves in the corner of a small cloth and immersed it in the water. "Have you eaten?" she asked. She swirled the cloth in the water, removed it, and handed me the cup of tea.

"We brought some things from the kitchen, _Naneth_," said Ereglin, undoing the ties on the pack, "Selediel brought these in just this morning." He unfolded the cloth and presented the honey cakes.

Aegliriel looked at him and grinned, "You're a good son, Ereglin," she said, "and you brought plenty to share." She made tea for herself and Ereglin. For a time there was little sound, save the sipping of tea and the eating of honey cakes. I relaxed and let the music of the morning surround me. After my time in the caverns, it was like waking from a dream. I could feel the sun on my shoulders and sense the many voices of new life growing all around me.

There were six oaks in the glen where I sat, each with branch tips brushed with a hint of green. I felt the solidness of their magnificent trunks at my back and their inner strength as they held their mighty branches high. I looked up and drank in the light of the spring sunlight as it glanced off the new green growth. It felt so good to be free of the caverns. I took a sip of tea to cleanse my mouth and began a small song of spring.

Ereglin caught my eye and laughed. He listened for a moment and then hummed a quiet harmony. Aegliriel didn't sing but looked on appreciatively and helped herself to another honey cake.

Finally, I sighed and let the silence stand.

"Ada!" cried Ereglin looking above and beyond me. I turned quickly to find that a warrior had stepped into the clearing behind me. He was dressed in full military attire from the severity of his brown braids to the sword at his side. He wore a tunic of heavy leather and had scuffed leather boots on his feet. He was tall for a wood elf, and his high cheekbones and narrow face gave him a stern affect that was reflected in the unhappy darkness of his eyes. He reminded me of a proud falcon ready to strike. I scrambled to my feet and bowed at once. I had no desire to become the target of his displeasure.

The warrior's somber expression melted immediately, when he saw me. A broad smile transformed his entire countenance, "Is this Lethriliel's son, then?" he asked. I looked at the warrior warily. Boronel pressed his hand to his heart and bowed. "I did not mean to frighten you," he said apologetically, I am in your service, young prince. Be at peace."

"You've come at a good time, Ada," said Ereglin, "We've got one honey cake left for you. Come and eat with us."

"I'll do that, young rascal," said Boronel, "but first help me get rid of this tunic." His demeanor darkened again as he unbuckled his sword, then began pulling off the thick leather tunic with awkward motions.

"That leather is much too thick for a tunic," commented Aegliriel as she helped her husband with the heavy garment. Whatever posessed you to put it on in the first place?"

Boronel glared at his wife. "I had a sudden desire to see what a turtle feels like trapped in its shell."

"Then you must get on your back and wave your legs and arms," retorted Aegliriel, not at all put off by Boronel's ire. "There, it's off. Do you feel better now?"

Boronel stretched his arms wide and reached high over his head. He rolled his shoulders and sighed. "Ah yes, much better." With only a cloth tunic, he was much less frightening, and I came to myself only to realize that I had been staring at him with my mouth open.

"Do tell your liege lord that I do not bite," said Boronel to Ereglin, "although I'll be more than happy to growl a bit if that will impress him."

"You really don't need to do that," I said earnestly.

Boronel and Aegliriel both laughed.

Boronel sat on one of the logs and accepted a steaming cup of tea from Aegliriel. "Now where is that honey cake?" he demanded, "I have had far too dreary a night, and I need something to cheer me up."

Aegliriel picked up the heavy garment from the ground and fingered its thickness. "You must first tell me how you came to be dressed in this bit of foolishness."

"Well," said Boronel soberly, "It is the mischief of General Thormor. He was with King Thranduil on that mission south at the start of the month. I haven't heard all of what they saw, but those who travelled with him were saying that the dominion of darkness grows ever greater. The king himself was downed by a spider, and from the size of the webs some of the creatures are large enough to kill a man with a single bite." Boronel reached for the honey cake and bit into it. "The idea with these tunics is to protect the wearer from spiders. The leather should also slow down the arc of the blade of an attacker. Thormor wants all of the troops outfitted as soon as possible. It is a cumbersome thing," he said, finishing the honey cake and licking his fingers, "The story goes that he got the idea from those Men we found trespassing on the western boarders a couple of months ago. Damned uncomfortable, if you ask me."

"Will you wear it?" asked Aegliriel.

"Do I look like a Sinda?" growled Boronel. "Forgive me if I offend you, master Legolas, but I would rather be tied to a rock than be confined by one of those things. I trust my own reflexes to keep me from harm."

"You are not going into danger any time soon, are you?" asked Aegliriel.

"Not as far as I know, _meleth_," said Boronel, "but there are ill winds about, and they don't bode well for the future. I will do my best to stay safe."

We were silent for a time after that. I thought soberly about the words that I had heard the night before. I would have liked to talk with Boronel about what my father had said, but I was determined to earn my father's trust so I said nothing.

"Is there nothing left to eat?" asked Boronel after a time. "A single honey cake is not enough for a warrior."

Ereglin pulled out the cheese and bread and we shared it amongst ourselves.

The rest of the day flowed swiftly by. Ereglin was pleased that I could walk the canopy. There were not so many rope bridges between the trees as there were at home. The Laegrim near the Halls spent far less time in the trees than I was used to.

We spent a good deal of the day exploring the woods around his home. There were dozens of hearth fires in the area. I wondered how so many could live so close together and still live off the land. Ereglin told me of the great hunting parties that would venture out into the uninhabited woods to secure game for the keep. The Halls employed a full two score of huntsmen who did nothing but bring food to the many tables of Thranduil's Halls.

Late in the afternoon, we took respite from our explorations to enjoy the company of the trees. We tried several trees, until finally we were perched on the wide branches of an ancient oak. I straddled a high branch and Ereglin reclined on the broad span of a lower bough. He lay with one arm flung across his face, letting his hair dangle below him. It was so unlike the more formal demeanor in the halls I had to smile. It was a pity, I thought, that I didn't have any maple spinners to drop. His youthful countenance sparked my curiosity.

"Ereglin?" I asked.

"Yes, Legolas?"

"How old are you anyways?"

Ereglin moved his arm from his face and peered up at me. I leaned forward so that my belly rested against the branch and peered down at him.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I am just curious. You don't act very old."

"Well," he said, sitting up and stretching, "I am two years short of coming of age."

"You can be a companion to me while you are still a child?"

Ereglin pulled on his lower lip, "Well, it is not often done that way. Actually, until a week ago I was apprenticed in the kitchen."

"What do you mean?"

"When my father became a warrior, he promised my mother that there would only be one warrior in our family. Since he has that task, I must fine another path to follow. Until you showed up I was destined to be a cook of the Halls. I've apprenticed with Heledirn for any number of years." He looked at me, as though to gauge my reaction. I shrugged and smiled. In my world, cooking was woman's work, but I didn't say so.

"Do you enjoy the work?" I finally asked. Ereglin frowned.

"As a matter of fact, no. I don't mind being helpful in the kitchen, but Heledirn knows better than to set me loose with a recipe. I find that there are too many other interesting things to do than watch a pot boil." He smiled ruefully, "Actually, he calls me his walking disaster."

Ereglin looked down and began to trace a wrinkle in the bark with his finger. "When I overheard Galion talking to Heledirn about going to fetch you, I stepped forward and offered my services. I'll be honest, Legolas, I am all but worthless in the kitchen. Heledirn saw it as an opportunity to unload his poorest worker, and Galion was kind enough to take me on. He said you would need a _meldir_ to keep an eye on you.

"You don't miss being a cook, then?" I asked.

Ereglin sighed, "I like the folks in the kitchen quite well, but I've got no aptitude for the job. Heledirn wasn't very patient with me. Anyways, I guess it isn't a matter of what I'd like. My father won't hear of my taking on weapons training. As a cook, he knew that I wouldn't even need to learn the bow for hunting."

"Don't you want to learn the bow?"

Ereglin broke a small stick between his fingers and threw the pieces into the air, "Sure I do. I am not a coward, Legolas, but my family will decide my fate. It doesn't really matter. As your _meldir_, I don't need to learn how to fight either. I'm not sure I would make a good warrior, Legolas, but it would be good to know that I could defend the forest if the need arose. It would be nice to have the chance." Ereglin dropped to the ground and sat with his back against the trunk.

I pondered Ereglin's words. In the village there had been little talk of the forces of darkness, and I had never seen any sign of warriors training for battle. I looked forward to being a _tauron_, but it was becoming clear to me that nurturing the forest would do little to rid the woods of the orcs and spiders.

We sat in silence for some time.

"Ereglin?" I called out at last.

"Yes, Legolas?"

"Have you ever told your father about what you desire?"

"He won't discuss it. I know that he does not relish raising a coward, having me hide in the Halls while others go to fight, but he has his promise to my mother to consider. Actually, I think he might be more open to the idea if he wasn't convinced that I'd be a poor soldier as well as a poor cook."

"Well," I said, leaving my perch to drop down beside Ereglin, "I am convinced that you are an excellent _meldir_, and I shall tell Galion that if he ever asks. Do you think we could climb to the canopy one last time to see what the weather will bring?"

Ereglin shook off his moodiness and smiled, "Your wish is my command, my prince. I know of a great elm tree not far from here that would serve us nicely."

We ran to the tree and clambered up it. By the time we reached the top, I was breathing hard. I set my face against the wind so that my hair blew away from my face. Ereglin did the same. "Well, Prince Legolas, what weather do you see?"

"A soaking rain is coming. Perhaps I can dance in the rain!"

Ereglin laughed. "Then I will dance with you."

-0-0-0-0-

More yet to come, but the Muse would be happy if you'd take a minute to review… please?

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	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Over the next few days I learned that my father made a habit of breakfasting in his rooms while going over the day's retinue with Galion. I was not unwelcome at these sessions, but I soon found that I preferred eating with Ereglin in the kitchen. There was always a sense of happy bustle as the kitchen folk went about their daily work. At first Heledirn objected to my presence on the basis that the kitchen was no place for a prince, but Ereglin assuaged his concerns by pointing out how happy I seemed to be in their midst. Ereglin also made a habit of lending a hand as he could, and I was even allowed to help on occasion.

My days also eased into a regular rhythm. After breakfast in the kitchen, Ereglin and I would spend the morning exploring. At least that's what we called it. In fact, it was mostly finding ways to satisfy my curiosity about my new home. We spent more time in the great walled yard visiting with the tradesmen and craftsmen who worked there. We also climbed the stairs to the higher terrace where the soldiers spent their time. The armory was there, with its collection of blades, armor and archery supplies. It was kept by one of the Iathrim from Doriath who had kept the armory there as well. He knew the exact location and story of each of the pieces under his care and was an expert swordsman in his own right. When he learned that I had seen fewer than a dozen swords in my life, he went out of his way to educate me on the parts and proper maintenance of a blade. I grew quite enamored with the feel and heft of several of the smaller blades until Ereglin reminded me that their sole purpose was for killing orc.

"Is it wrong to kill the enemy?" I asked, thinking of the dark birds that had frightened me so.

"My father says that going to war damages the soul," replied Ereglin.

I had nothing to say to that.

By far the greatest amount of space in the upper yard was dedicated to swordsmanship. A full company of a hundred warriors could spar and train without stumbling over one another. The tunics for training were of a durable dark brown weave, and when all the soldiers were working, they looked like a flock of fierce birds attacking their prey. One morning we arrived at the sparring field only to find the warriors dressed in the heavy leather tunics like the one that Boronel had worn. There was more than a little grumbling, and the sword work was not nearly as smooth or graceful.

"Let's go down to the bridge for a time," I suggested at last, "Perhaps things will be happier there."

There was a broad curved path that bypassed the lower yard, and we ran smoothly down towards the river. As we drew near to the bridge I caught sight of a half dozen guards from the local patrol moving quickly towards us from the opposite side of the bridge. There was a lone figure in their midst who caught my attention. He was dressed as a villager with a plain shirt and breeches. His hair was pulled back in a tangled tail of dark brown. He wore a band of grey cloth around his forehead to keep the sweat from his eyes, and his tunic was wet from his exertions. He had obviously run far to get to Thranduil's Halls. He walked with the irregular gait of one who has run beyond his level of endurance.

We reached the bridge at almost the same moment that the company did, and Ereglin and I quickly clambered to perch on the wide stone wall. There was the sound of many feet and the company passed by us. For a brief moment the traveler's eyes met mine. I was startled by the weariness and profound sorrow I found there. We watched the group as they disappeared into the mouth of the caverns.

"He is not one of the king's messengers," said Ereglin. "By the looks of him he came from the south. There is something afoot. Come, let's see if we can find out what it is!"

At first I was unwilling to follow Ereglin's lead, but then my curiosity got the better of me. I slid down from my spot on the wall and ran to catch up with Ereglin who was already following the elves into the caves.

Ereglin slowed and stopped and turned to me. "They are going straight to the king," he said. "Let's go to the kitchen, I have an idea."

We hurried to the kitchen. Ereglin stopped just outside the door and took a deep breath. "Relax," he said, "Let me do the talking." He turned and entered the kitchen with calm efficiency. He sought out Heledirn who was instructing two workers near the back of the room.

"A messenger just arrived from the south," he told the cook. "I need to get some refreshments as soon as possible."

"Since when are you sent to wait on the king?" asked Heledirn tersely.

"I'm a _meldir_ of the royal house now," replied Ereglin proudly, "I am asked to do all sorts of things." Heledirn looked at Ereglin intently, and then nodded his head.

"Cadwen," he called, "Come and help Ereglin prepare a tray for his majesty." He looked at Ereglin, "Water, juice, and half wedge of cheese. Slice today's bread, and don't forget wine for the king."  
Ereglin just nodded. The tray was soon assembled and we headed out of the kitchen.

"I am guessing that they will be in the receiving room just off the throne room," explained Ereglin as we walked. We soon stopped at a door I had not noticed before. He looked at me and grinned, then knocked on the door.

There was a moment's delay. Finally, Galion opened the door for us and raised his eyebrows until he saw that Ereglin held a tray. At first I feared he would not let me pass, but he finally opened the door wide enough to admit both of us. As Ereglin crossed the room to place the tray on a small sideboard against the wall, I stepped just inside the door and tried to look small. Neither my father nor the messenger saw me. They were seated in a pair of chairs that faced an unlit fireplace. My father was speaking quietly to the man who had taken off his headband and was pulling and twisting it in his hands.

Ereglin didn't hesitate, but poured a glass of water for the messenger and a glass of wine for my father. He placed them unobtrusively on the table between the chairs. My father looked up for a moment and his eyes narrowed when he saw that it was Ereglin. He quickly scanned the room until he saw me standing in the shadows. He did not ask us to leave, but turned his attentions again to the man. "Come, drink some water now. What is so urgent that it can't wait for you to take rest and refreshment?"

The tired figure drank deeply from the cup. "Thank you my lord. My words for you can't wait. My name is Eluloch. I am from the village near the bend." His voice had the lilting cadence of the elves from the villages.

"Ah, yes, Hirthor's village. You hosted my company not a fortnight ago when we were travelling in the south."

Eluloch nodded and returned the cup to the table. "You told us then that we were too close to the darkness. You warned us to be on guard. It is not that we didn't believe you…" Eluloch bowed his head and twisted the cloth in his hands.

"But something happened?"

A nod.

"Look at me, Eluloch. Was it spiders or orcs?"

"A spider, my lord. Although we never saw it. Merilin was asleep on her talan and never came down for breakfast, and Hirthor made Tologil go up to wake her and she was gone. There was nothing there save for some strands of webbing." Eluloch bowed his head again and spoke in a soft voice. "We found her clothing and what was left of her in a ravine covered in webs early the next morning."

There was silence for a moment, my father rubbed his chin with his hand. He leaned forward and said patiently, "Eluloch, Merilin is beyond our help now. I am sorry for your loss, but there is nothing I can do that will return her to you. I can't believe you ran for six days just to tell me this. Why else are you here?"

Eluloch gazed intensely at my father and took a deep breath. "I've come, King Thranduil, to ask your protection. We cannot leave our homes. We will not betray the forest in that way. I know that you don't agree with our choice, but I beg you to reconsider your decision to pull the patrols from our part of the forest. It has become more dangerous, and we need you now more than ever."

My father looked at him with grim disbelief. "Restore the patrols?" he said at last, "Eluloch, I would not desert you in your time of need. I have a full company posted in your area. What did they say when you told them what had happened?"

"They did not say anything, my lord. We sent messengers to their encampment as soon as we could. There was no one there. They were gone."

I could sense that my father was very upset, but his voice when he spoke to Eluloch was gentle, "They are not gone by my leave. They would not move without good cause. They would not have left your area if they thought that you were in danger." He paused and considered his next words. He placed a comforting hand on Eluloch's shoulder. "These are ill tidings, indeed, Eluloch. I need to consider carefully our course of action. Will you go with Galion now and allow us to show you what hospitality we can?" My father rose from his seat and continued, "This evening at sundown we will begin a cycle of lamentations for Merilin. We would be honored if you would join us."

"Thank you, my lord," said Eluloch.

Eluloch rose then and bowed deeply, then turned to go. He caught sight of me as he neared the door and came to a full stop. He looked at me, and then at my father. He turned to me again in wide eyed wonder.

"Forgive me, my lord, is this your son?" My father nodded. Eluloch knelt before me and extended his hands in greeting. I took his hands and looked cautiously at him. "The Laegren prince," he breathed. Still holding my hands, he turned towards my father. "Our people have heard of the Laegren prince," he said, "and that you gave your own son to be raised by the Laegrim. Is that true?"

"It is," said my father, perplexed.

"Then I beg your forgiveness, my lord," said Eluloch, dropping my hands and bowing to my father until his head nearly touched the ground. "I should never have doubted that you would leave us to the darkness. To allow your son to be raised by his mother's people is an honor that will not be forgotten. I ask your forgiveness again."

It was well that Eluloch was looking at the floor, for the look of shocked amazement on my father's face could not be concealed. I am sure he had never considered how giving me to Nathel and Nador would be perceived by the Silvans. Quickly the look was covered with a calm face and a gentle smile, but for a fraction of a second our eyes met, and I knew that my father knew I had seen his soul unveiled.

"My forgiveness is yours," said my father evenly to Eluloch, reaching out to help him to his feet. "Rise, now, and go with Galion. We will speak more on this later."

The door closed behind them and I looked at my feet. Ereglin shifted nervously. What had transpired in this room had been privileged information. Once again I had stumbled into a place where I did not belong. We deserved my father's wrath, and I bowed my head and waited.

The silence seemed interminable. The king drew near to Ereglin and then spoke. His voice was stern, but low, almost too quiet to hear.

"I could ask you, Ereglin, why you felt it imperative to be present in this room. I could ask why you did not simply hand the serving tray to Galion and return to your own business. I could even ask how your actions could be construed as part of your duties of caring for my son. I could ask those things, but I will not. There is more important business to attend to than questioning an _elfling_ about his intentions. I will tell you this, however. If there are any more serious lapses in your judgment, I will have you scrubbing pots for the next ten long-years. Do I make myself clear?"

Ereglin's face flushed a deep red. He swallowed, then nodded, "Yes, my lord. I understand."

"And you, Legolas," he said, turning to me, "need to think for yourself. If this was your idea of appropriate behavior, then you are seriously mistaken." I looked at the king. He met my eyes and continued. "There will be no mention of anything you heard or saw in this room today to anyone." I nodded and dropped my eyes. "There will be consequences for your behavior today, Legolas, but we will discuss those later. You are both dismissed."

We bowed simultaneously, then left. Galion closed the door behind us.

We walked in silence to my room. When we got there, Ereglin offered to come in with me, but I declined. "You'd better go now," I told him. "We can't talk about what happened anyhow, and I know that the king isn't done with us yet. I just want to be alone for awhile." Reluctantly Ereglin turned and began to walk away.

I closed the door and crossed to the window. The bright morning sunlight had been replaced by a low grey cloud cover. It had started to rain. I opened the window wide, but it soon became apparent that the windowsill was too wet to sit on, so I stood at the window and looked down across the valley. The leaves on the birch below were already fully out. They trembled and shimmered as the rain hit them. I imagined the flowers that must carpet the floor of the forest far below me, their petals like faces upturned to welcome the life giving water. I found myself slipping into reverie. I wanted to be home.

I thought of the dances in the village when I was young. The dances for the spring rains were nothing like the dances for the tempests that broke over our woods in the heat of the summer. Often those storms would build slowly through the afternoon, like the slow thrum of the drums. The air would hold a tingling charge, the sky would move from clear to clouded to greenish grey. Then there would be a hush that stilled not only the birds, but the breath of the trees as well. Into this calm would come a light song of raindrops, tiny at first, but then with a great swelling of tempo and sound, the rain would quicken its dance until it fell in torrents. Rolling in the background were the deep swells of thunder, moving about the vault of the sky in measured steps.

I can remember setting aside work on rainy days to run to the clearing at the top of the hill to join with my people in dance. Eagerly we would extend our hands in welcome and pull each other out into the clearing. Spinning, swirling, jumping, twirling as the fevered pitch of the weather mounted, we danced. We were the wind, the rain and the surge of the thunder. Drenched to the skin, Brethilas and I would join hands and run across the clearing, only to be scooped up by the adults and twirled off our feet. We would laugh, drops of water flying from our braids, until we were giddy. We would move until we were breathless. And when the rain would wash in torrents down, we would lift our faces to the sky and spin around and around, and feel at one with everything and know that everything was good.

I came to myself only to find that the rain outside the window had become a steady downpour. I thought that I might find my way to the out of doors, but I knew that I had incurred the king's displeasure, and that in this place there would be no one to dance with me.

-0-0-0-0-0

And so we leave Legolas for another while. Please take a minute to offer a word or two of feedback. I can't begin to tell you how it feeds the muse. - Ky

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	10. Chapter 10 and 11

**A double dose today! Please take time to let me know how you liked it.**

**Chapter 10**

If my father wished for me to suffer for my poor judgment, he was perhaps more successful than he intended. No one came to visit me during that long afternoon. Well after supper time Gwenen came to help me get ready for bed. When she learned that I had not eaten she ordered something from the kitchen, but I was not hungry. Long after I was tucked into bed I listened for sounds from my father's door, but there was nothing. I did not sing that night.

I had hoped that my father would visit me in the morning to tell me what discipline he had chosen, but that was not to be. After a time Ereglin came to my door. He brought breakfast on a tray and was taciturn and distant. I was hard pressed to get him to talk, so I ate my breakfast in silence.

"Why aren't we going down to the kitchens for breakfast?" I finally asked, growing impatient with his subdued mood.

"It's too busy there, my lord," he said stiffly, "The king has ordered two companies to head south over the next three days. Heledirn is beside himself trying to provision two hundred soldiers on such short notice. Besides –"

"Besides what?" I asked.

Ereglin sighed. "My father was not too happy when I told him what happened yesterday. He said that if the king was dissatisfied with me, it was my responsibility to make things right. He said that there were plenty of others who would be much better qualified to serve as _meldir_ to the Laegren Prince, and allowed as how I'd better not forget that you are a prince as well, and treat you will all due respect."

"You told him that I was the Laegren Prince?" I looked at Ereglin sharply. "You promised not to speak of what was said yesterday. Why have you betrayed the king's trust?"

"I did not speak of that, I swear," replied Ereglin. His eyes grew wide, and he held up his hands to protest. "Everyone, at least everyone at the_ telain_ speaks of you thus. My lord, what I did yesterday was wrong, and I need to beg your forgiveness. I would not compound my transgression by breaking my word to the king."

"If you want my forgiveness, stop calling me "my lord,"" I said, letting my annoyance show. "In truth I don't mind being Laegren, but I am not so sure I like the idea of being prince." I looked towards the door that divided me from my father.

Ereglin relaxed visibly, then followed the direction of my gaze. "Has he spoken to you yet?" he asked. I shook my head. "Don't worry, Legolas. He is a fair king. He has been sequestered with his advisors since yesterday afternoon. Be patient."

"It's hard to be patient, Ereglin." I growled, "Let's go outside."

When we passed through the kitchen it was buzzing with activity. Two of the kitchen folk were wrestling a large crate onto one of the tables as we came through. I paused long enough to watch them pry the lid off and carefully unfold a heavy woven cloth from the contents, and lift out some smaller packages from the crate.

"What is that?" I asked Ereglin.

"Lembas bread," he replied. "It's imported from Lothlorien. It's reserved for high feasts and warriors in battle."

"Why don't they just take the bread that Sedeliel and her family bake?"

Ereglin took two apples from a nearby bowl and handed me the larger one. "You've never heard of Lembas?" I shook my head. "The grain for it is specially grown on fields within the borders of Lothlorien. Lady Galadriel is one of the few who can oversee its making. It has special properties imbued by the Vala Yavanna, they say. I've had it once or twice. I'd say that it is very good bread, but my father swears that a single loaf can sustain a warrior for two days, and help with his ability to fight." Ereglin shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

I bit into my apple as we left the kitchen. It was soft and not very juicy, but I enjoyed it anyway. I ate everything except the seeds, and put those carefully on the ground near the maple. Then I scrambled to my favorite perch, about halfway up the tree. Ereglin was swift to follow.

Looking down the length of the yard, I could tell that many of the craftsmen were busier than usual. At the far end of the yard I could see that several horses were being led out of the stables. They were large mounts, tall and broad chested. They held themselves proudly and seemed reluctant to be led by their handlers.

"Those are the captains' mounts," said Ereglin behind me. "That black one there belongs to Thormor, the captain general." He pointed to a pair of smaller gray horses, "Those are for the captains. Look, they are checking their hooves to make sure that their shoes are properly fitted."

"Do all the soldiers ride?"

Ereglin snorted. "Hardly. The paths in the southern woods aren't nearly large enough for one thing. For another, the troops are mostly Laegren and they prefer to run on their own two feet. Actually, the horses aren't good for much after about two days ride. It's a lot easier to move by foot."

"What do they do with the horses?"

"Sometimes they use the stables in the south, but if they will be gone awhile, they send the horses back to the Halls."

"It is not uncommon to be gone several years," said Ereglin soberly, "often as much as ten. My father speaks of seasons of trouble that have lasted fifty or even a hundred years or more. They will often rotate companies in and out of the field in those situations. That's why this call to arms is so unusual." Ereglin had nibbled his apple down to a core. He took a moment to set it out on a branch for the squirrels to find. "Quick departures for an extended campaign are not the norm. I imagine that there is more brewing than even we are aware of."

We were distracted by a time with a large flock of grackles that chose to settle in the higher boughs of the maple and in the branches of the trees nearby. They were a noisy gathering, with much chattering and preening and scratching of their claws upon their perches. The sunlight caught the iridescent rainbows in their feathers and I mused how beautiful they were compared to the crebain of the darkness. I shuddered with the memory of it all. The warriors of Thranduil's Keep must be brave, I thought, to go willingly into a place of shadows.

I did not think of my punishment again until that evening, when once more my father failed to meet with me. I knew in my head that he was busy with affairs of state, but in my heart I wished to resolve the discord between us. I did not sleep at all well that night. My memories kept reliving the situation and I finally decided that it must have been a fairly large transgression for my father to take so long in deciding a consequence. There was too much anxiety in my heart to sing that night.

The first company left at dawn the next day. From our perch on the tree they were an imposing sight. The first miles of the journey would be on the wide roads. They were a magnificent sight travelling four abreast. Not all were clothed in the heavy leather tunics, but they marched in unison, singing a rousing song of fighting for victory. The swordsmen went first, and they were by far the most numerous. They were followed by the archers who carried their slender bows slung, with their quivers, upon their backs. The Laegren wore tight braids to keep their hair off their faces; their hair was cut short, to just below the shoulder blades to keep it out of their way during battle. The Sindar were relatively few in number. Their braids were also tightly woven, but of a different design. The Sindar were interspersed amongst their comrades and almost all of them wore not only the heavy leather tunic, but a helmet of metal as well. Some few wore full hauberks of chain mail. The power of the strength represented before me filled me with pride and not a small desire to be part of that great company. The orderliness of their marching intrigued me, and the lusty strength of the song made me want to cheer and cry out my encouragement, even though we were too far from the soldiers to be heard.

As the mighty company disappeared into the trees, my sense of foreboding and melancholy returned. Perhaps now that the first company had left, my father would have time to meet with me. Ereglin had no desire to meet with the king, so I left him and made my way to my father's office.

There were two guards standing outside the door. As I drew near, I was delighted to see that they were Eluvorn and Dolnor, the two soldiers who had accompanied me to Thranduil's Halls from the village.

"_Mae govanen_," said Eluvorn as I approached. They both bowed as I drew near.

"It's good to see you," I replied. "Is my father within?"

"He is," said Dolnor, "and most of his advisors besides."

I had no desire to interrupt important state business, but my impatience was getting the best of me. I set my shoulders back and tried to sound as princely as I could, "I need to see him right away," I announced.

Dolnor looked a little nervous, but Eluvorn just smiled kindly at me, "I'm sure you do, my prince, but we have orders not to let anyone pass."

"But I'm the prince!" I protested, "I have to see my father. It's important!" I resisted the temptation to stamp my foot.

Eluvorn licked his lips and knelt down until we were eye to eye, "I would love to make you happy, Prince Legolas, but the fact is, I'm not allowed to open these doors for anyone save Galion, and those of the council."

I crossed my arms across my chest. "But I need him," I said sadly.

Eluvorn looked at Dolnor and then back at me. "I am sorry, little one, but I need to obey my orders."

I turned and slowly walked away. I was not really watching where I was going, so lost was I in my thoughts, and I was caught totally off guard by the appearance of a shadowy figure who loomed suddenly before me. The torch light was behind him. I squinted to try and discern his face in the darkness.

"Good morning, little master. I have not seen you in this wing of the caverns before."

It was the smooth honeyed voice of the master harper. I could just make out his piercing blue eyes gazing at me intently.

"I am sorry. I didn't watch where I was going." I said. I stepped sideways as though to walk around him.

"You were rather distracted," affirmed the harper. "Come, I'll walk with you, if you like. In fact, I have been meaning to check on you and see how you are doing. How goes it?"

"Not well," I replied. "I need to see my father and the guards won't let me in."

"Ah, he's been sequestered for the better part of two days now," said Talagand thoughtfully. "Is there anything I can do to lighten your load? Shall we go find a place to sing?"

I shook my head. "I am too worried to sing these past few days," I confessed. "My voice sounds funny when I try."

Talagand rubbed his chin with his hand. "Not singing, Legolas? That is not a good situation for one from the villages. As I recall, the members of your village do little else with their time."

"We do other things," I protested.

"Like breathe and eat, perhaps," replied Talagand dryly. "Come with me, if you will, young master. I think I have something that will set you to rights."

I had forgotten how tall Talagand was. I had a hard time keeping up with his long strides. We climbed quite a way until we came to a wide cavern that was empty save for a series of slender stalactites hanging from the ceiling near one of the walls. We crossed the cavern and paused before a door set into the stone.

"Welcome to my workshop," said Talagand softly, as he opened the door.

I peered inside. There was no window in the room, nor torches. Instead the room was lit by brilliant white lanterns set at regular intervals along the walls. Against one wall was a work table with a smooth surface of red polished marble. It was covered with an assortment of small instruments in various stages of disrepair. In the corner, beneath one of the lights, was a dark wooden writing desk. Across the back of the room a large piece of black slate had been mounted flush with the wall. This was covered with a myriad of chalk markings that looked nothing like the _tengwar_ I had seen. On another wall was a series of wide shelves piled with a combination of scrolls and texts.

Talagand didn't stop in this room, but went directly through it to a smaller doorway. He opened the door and indicated that I should go first. This second room was larger and was almost perfectly round. The walls rose far above our heads to resolve in a dome that quite symmetrical. There was a small window on one of the walls, but the casement was so deep that it let in only a limited amount of light. Overhead, a breach in the dome allowed more light to come in naturally. The stone walls were covered with rich green tapestries. Near the center of the room was a tall graceful device that was totally unfamiliar to me. I stared at it uncomprehendingly until Talagand touched me on the shoulder.

"It's a harp, little one," he said, smiling at my awe. He took me by the hand and led me over to the instrument. "Look," he said, "This is the column, he said, indicating a post that was intricately carved with vines and woodland flowers. This is the shoulder," he continued, pointing to a graceful arch of wood, "and these," he said, plucking the strings, "are the strings." The sound that came from the harp was sweet and pure, like a song in the quiet of the night. I smiled in spite of myself.

"It's beautiful," I whispered.

Talagand bowed graciously, "It does play more than that," he said, "Would you like to hear it?" I nodded. He left me standing near the harp and proceeded to sit upon a small chair that stood behind the instrument. He set his hands lightly upon the strings and began to play.

How can I describe the sounds of my first encounter with the harp? It was incredible. The music poured into my heart like a smooth rushing waterfall and filled me with such delight and wonder that I was lost in the rippling melody and gentle rhythm set before me. The music flowed from Talagand's capable fingers and filled the chamber with such richness that for a moment I felt that I could almost fly upon the strength of the sound. The tension that had lain across my soul so deeply for the past few days was lifted and I felt myself held by the strong sweet layers of the music as it was played. The room itself resonated with the sound and I was immersed in the experience. I closed my eyes and lifted my chin. I breathed deeply and gave myself fully to the music.

I cannot say how long Talagand played for me. Eventually, inevitably, the melody slowed and the harmonies resolved. The notes dwindled until there was only one note trembling clean and sweet upon the air. And then it was done.

Silence stretched warm and safe across the minutes.

I looked at Talagand with wonder and gratitude.

I sighed with satisfaction. "Thank you." I said at last. The harp master smiled.

"It is my gift to you, young Thraduilion. Now come, and show me how you sing."

-0-0-0-0-0

**Chapter 11**

I was still under the spell of the music from the harp. Quickly, I looked around for some way to spark my own song. The floor was solid rock beneath my feet; the tapestries on the walls told me nothing. The light from the little window was sheltered and had little to say.

Finally I went to stand under the light shining down from the ceiling. There I felt the song of Anor forming in my heart. I tilted my head back to bathe my face in the light. Breathe in, I thought, and envisioned the sun bearing down on the earth high above me. Breathe out, I thought, and released any tension that might still lurk in my body. Breathe in, I thought trying to capture traces of the music of the harp, Breathe out, and not surprisingly I found myself letting go of anxieties I had regarding my father. I moved my feet so that I was well grounded and breathed in, then began to sing a song of the trees yearning for the warmth of the sun, seeking their nourishment from the light of Anor, and resting happily in the promise of longer days and warmer nights. I sang until the song finished itself, and then I stood quietly and let the silence stand.

Talagand took a deep breath. "Thank you, Thranduilion," he said, and smiled. "You have wonderful voice. You may come to sing for me any time.

"I would like to sing more, master harper," I said politely. "But it's hard to find ways to sing these days."

"Where did you do your best singing in the village?" asked Talagand.

I thought for a moment. "Every day in the morning I would climb to the top of the maple tree and sing in the dawn. I liked singing then. And I liked to sing to the plants and the trees to help them grow."

"Well," said the harp master, raising his eyebrows, "it would seem to me that such a practice would not be impossible here in the keep. As I recall you had no trouble climbing the maple tree in the yard. Is it possible to greet the dawn from there?"

"I know how to go safely from my room to the yard," I commented, "so long as Ada or Ereglin did not object. Do you think I could?" I asked suddenly filled with desire. "I would so like to sing again."

Talagand chuckled, "I don't see how anyone could object to your singing, Legolas. But come now, and show me how you breathe."  
"How I breathe?" I asked.

"Yes. Didn't Istuilalf teach you how to breathe while you sing?"

I wrinkled my forehead, trying to figure out what Talagand wanted. "I don't think he ever showed me anything about breathing while I'm singing," I said apologetically, "He worked very hard on helping me to center before I started to sing, is that what you mean?"

"It is strange," said Talagand, looking at me quizzically, "I have always wondered how the wood elves learn to sing. When I've asked, they've always eluded my questions. And yet without a doubt the Laegrim are among the best singers we have. Tell me this, Legolas, how do you learn to sing if you do not study technique?"

It was my turn to be confused. "What is technique, Talagand?"

"Well, it's the bits and pieces that go into becoming a great singer. Posture, breathing, tone, pitch, resonance, projection, these are the foundation of good singing."

"Am I not a good singer, then?"

Talagand lifted his eyebrows,. "No, no, you are a very good singer, especially for one so young. I just can't imagine that all Laegrim come by it naturally."

"But I do get training," I said. "When I learn how to sing Istuilalf or Nathel or sometimes Nador sings with me. I lean on their music until my song balances with theirs. I can tell you, sometimes that is very hard work!" I exclaimed, "But I know that it is important. And it is fun most of the time."

Talagand smiled. "Would you like to sing a song together, little master?"

"Do you know the song for exploring on a spring morning?"

Talagand laughed, "No, but come, we will find a song that we can sing together." He led me back through the doorway to the first room. He walked to the shelves with the books and began sorting through them.

"Are those more papers with writing?" I asked.

"This is part of my collection of songs," said Talagand. He pulled several books off one of the lower shelves and began looking through them. "For many years I've written a record of many of the songs of the woods. I've got the very oldest songs on scrolls." He paused and looked at me, his blue eyes crinkled with pleasure, "The hardest part of keeping record of the music of the green wood is that the wood elves are forever coming up with new ways to sing! Ah, here is a cluster of child songs. Perhaps you know some of these?" He hummed a few notes from a couple of the songs.

I looked at him confused. They didn't sound like anything I had ever sung. "Your books are telling you things that I don't know about," I said at last, "Can you teach me something new?"

We were interrupted by a knock at the door. Talagand excused himself and crossed the front room to answer it.

"Ah Galion," he said, opening the door wide. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"The pleasure is all mine," said Galion dryly, ."I come from the conference room, Talagand. The first company has left and the king needs to update the people regarding his intentions. He will present later this afternoon in the throne room. He wants his son to be present. I think it will take the better part of the day to make him ready."

"But I am having fun, Galion," I protested. "How long can it take to get dressed?"

"You are asking the king's steward how long it takes to get dressed?" asked Talagand. He turned to Galion, "The king's will is my command," he said with mock dismay, "best to submit yourself to your fate young Thranduilion. Galion always has his way."

"How kind of you to say so, master harper," said Galion with a bow, "Will we see you this evening?"

"As I doubtless will be asked to play for the occasion, that can hardly be avoided," said Talagan returning the bow. "I will be there."

Shall we go then, Legolas?" Galion extended his hand, but I refused it. I was rather put out at being interrupted.

We walked in silence until we got to my room. As we walked, the stress and worry tumbled back upon me. I had not seen my father for several days and that did not sit well with me. I knew that it was silly, but I knew that he was displeased with me and I was quite anxious over how he would call me into account.

Galion interrupted my thoughts, "- and then to bath, young one," he was saying. I looked warily at him.

"I do not want a bath, Galion," I replied.

"Well, not at first, Legolas. First we'll have some lunch sent up for you, and then you can choose from the clothes I have selected for you for this evening. If you like, Gwenen can come up to scrub your back. There should be some time for resting before you dress for the evening."

"Where is Ereglin?" I asked petulantly.

"He's been asked to serve in the kitchen today. Many will be staying for the evening meal, and Heledirn hasn't finished provisioning the soldiers yet."

"I do not want lunch and I do not want a bath," I said grimly.

Galion opened the door for me. I went straight to my perch on the window sill. I could hear Galion suck his breath in through his teeth. "Legolas, it is not wise to sit there, little one. Come in now, and we can talk."

Reluctantly I climbed back into the room. I could tell that Galion was flustered by my outburst. I stood in front of him, my arms crossed and my feet apart. I did not look at him.

"What ails you, Legolas?" he asked gently. I glared at him. I did not know why I felt so rebellious. My heart swirled with anger and frustration.

Galion licked his lips and looked out the window. He looked at me again. "What would make you happy now, Legolas? Tell me and I will see if it can be done."

"I want to go home," I said automatically, but the request sounded hollow to my ears.

Galion waited patiently.

"What is so important that my father has to be there all the time?" I demanded at last. "I know that he is angry with me, and he told me that I would need consequences for what happened, but he won't talk to me and I know that he doesn't like me any more!" I blinked back the tears. I would not cry for this.

Galion's eyes grew wide and then softened. He knelt down and looked me steadily in the eye. "You know that he is doing the work of the kingdom, and his absence has nothing to do with how much he loves you."

I met Galion's eyes and then looked away. I could feel the tension growing like a vice around my chest. I resisted the urge to suck on my fingers, but I could not help chewing my lower lip.

"Come," said Galion at last. "We will go to find the King."

I gazed wide eyed at Galion. Surely he must be jesting. The king had allowed no one to interrupt him as he talked with his advisors. I was sure that he would be angry. "No, Galion, there is no need."

"You eyes betray you, little one," said the steward, "Trust me. I know your father well." He extended his hand, and this time I took it.

We made our way down to the king's office in silence. When I saw Eluvorn and Dolnor standing in front of the door, I wanted to turn back, but Galion stood behind me.

"Mae govenan," said Galion brusquely, "I am bringing the prince to his father."

"You are allowed in, of course, but our orders are to let no others pass," protested Dolnor.

"You would deny the king access to the prince?" said Galion, "For if you have issues with that, I will report you to your superior. Or perhaps you would like the king himself to come out and personally reiterate his desire? That can be arranged." Galion made as though he would enter the room.

Eluvorn and Dolnor looked at one another worriedly. Then the Dolnor said, "Let him pass, Eluvorn. It is the prince, after all."

Galion nodded, and before the guards could renew their protest, he opened the door and we entered the room.

I found myself under scrutiny by a half dozen elves. There was no question that I was interrupting a very serious conversation. My first impulse was to panic and flee, but then I focused on the King. It was good to see him, but he looked so somber. I dropped Galion's hand and stood watching.

The king seemed surprised to see me for a moment, but then he smiled and extended his hand. "Come, Legolas," he said. I obeyed and he wrapped his strong arms around me and held me close. He kissed the top of my head. I was confused. He didn't seem angry with me.

"You are most welcome, little one, but why are you here?" He looked at Galion.

"The welfare of the state depends in part on the welfare of its liege lord," said Galion, "and the prince has serious concerns about your welfare, my lord. Do you have a moment?"

"Of course," said my father. He scooped me up and set me in his lap. I leaned my head against his chest so that I could hear his heart beating. Its slow rhythm comforted me. Perhaps he wasn't angry any more.

"Legolas," said my father after a few moments, "I would like for you to meet several of the most important advisors of Mirkwood. They are helping me devise a plan to keep the darkness at bay." I sat up and looked around.

"This is Thormor, captain general of the warriors." Thormor was Sinda with a wide pleasant face and brown eyes the color of rich soil. He nodded his head and smiled warmly at me. It was hard to imagine that he might be a warrior.

". . . and this is my arms master, Malenech." I was less inclined to like Malenech. He was also Sinda. His eyebrows were drawn giving him a scowling affect. He bowed his head with grace, but his eyes were dark and deep set, missing nothing.

"Amondorn you know already." I looked at the councilor. He had an amused glimmer in his eyes, but his face was an inscrutable mask.

"And these are three of our captains: Gaervorn, his brother Maethdorn, and Lainethir, who will be departing for the south in short order." The three nodded somberly.

"Now, _neth ben_, you have seen the council that I have put up with for the past few days. What do you think? Is there any more I can tell you?"

I looked at my father. If he was displeased with me, he was hiding it well. Perhaps this was the wrong room to talk about what had happened. I sat up straight and then looked around a little bit. I didn't want to be dismissed just yet. Then I noticed that there was a large scroll spread across the table. "What is this?" I asked politely. "It doesn't look like _tengwar_ to me."

"This is a map, a drawing of Mirkwood as seen by the birds as they fly over. See, here are the Halls, and look, each of these symbols marks a village nearby."

"There are so many of them," I commented.

"Yes, but they are all within a day or two ride of the Halls," said my father. "Actually, there is plenty of room in the caverns to house all of our people. The Sindarin are happy to stay inside, but the Laegrim are lost without their telain."

I got off my father's lap and examined the map more carefully. "Where are the four villages near the Necromancer?" I asked.

Amondorn raised his eyebrows.

Malenech fixed his gaze on my father, "I didn't know that the prince was in your confidence, your highness."

"I keep confidence with whom I will, Malenech," said the king evenly. He placed his right hand on my shoulder and swept across a large swath of sketched trees. "There, Legolas. Do you see how that hill is drawn? That is actually the original seat of governance for the Woodland Realm. My father, your grandfather, Oropher, built his halls there on the slopes of Amon Lanc. I spent my childhood there. Then all of this great woods was known as "Greenwood the Great." My father paused for a moment, and continued in a quieter voice, "The stronghold was abandoned over time, and nearly a thousand years ago, the Necromancer built a fortress and a tower there that we call Dol Guldur."

"Was anybody there when the Necromancer arrived?" I asked.

My father shook his head, "Your grandfather had already moved us north to Emyn Duir but when the creatures of the Necromancer overran the woods, I moved them north again to the Forest Road, and then to the mountains of Mirkwood," He indicated a series of triangles drawn near a thick line. "Eventually even those mountains were filled with orcs and spiders. I had to retreat again north of the Enchanted River." He traced a blue line that ran west to east across the far north end of the woods.

I looked at the great wilderness drawn on the map. The corner that my father was pointing to was a tiny portion of the whole. My entire world had seemed so limitless until that moment. By comparison, I could see that I only knew a very tiny piece of the place my father called home. I considered the map for a moment, then looked again at my father. "What sadness you must have had to say goodbye to all those trees," I said. His eyes met mine, and I knew that we understood each other.

"The four villages that you were wondering about are here," said Amondorn. He pointed to four marks near the south edge the river. "This is Hirthor and Eluloch's village."

"It is too far south for us to patrol it effectively," said Thormor soberly. "We keep rope bridges spanning the river, but they often fall into disrepair."

"Where did you fall?" I asked. Malenech moved impatiently, but my father ignored him.

"I was here, not three hundred yards from the bridge," he said. "Until this past season there was at least forty miles south of the river that was fairly free of the shadow. Even when I was there, there was no real evidence of orc activity. But with the disappearance of Talwon's company, we have great cause for concern. "

"But there are spiders," I said. My father nodded. I thought again of Merilin. It must have been very frightening for her. "Where is my village, Ada?" I couldn't help being concerned.

"It is here, Legolas. Do you see it right by this branch of the river? Your little river is much smaller than the Forest River, but it feeds into it eventually." I looked to where my father was pointing. It seemed fairly far away from the spiders, but I shuddered all the same.

"Do you have any other questions, my prince?" asked Thormor. He seemed to be in no hurry. I gave him a little smile, "No, I don't think so. I am sorry you have to work so hard." I grabbed my father's hand and leaned in to him. "Will you be done talking after tonight?" I asked, trying not to beg.

My father kissed my forehead, "I will see more of you soon, ion nin," he said, "but only for a while. We are calling our people to war. We will announce it tonight."

"That is classified information," murmured Malenech under his breath.

"And I trust my son's discretion!" retorted the king. "Now Legolas, if you will excuse us?"

I nodded and followed Galion to the door. On an impulse I turned and placed my hand to my heart. I bowed deeply to my father, then turned and left the room. 

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	11. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

I was much calmer for Galion after I saw my father, although I still worried what my punishment was going to be. True to his word, the bathing and resting and dressing went well into the afternoon. When we left for the throne room I was dressed in a tunic of white satin with deep blue leggings. Galion had braided my hair and allowed me to wear the sapphire and silver clips again. I felt quite well dressed, and found that I enjoyed the sensation. I put my shoulders back and a smile on my face.

Galion smiled down at me, but then sobered as a guard stopped us in the hallway. He whispered something in Galion's ear. Galion nodded. He was not smiling when he looked at me again.

"There may be a short delay in starting the king's audience," he said. "A messenger from the south has just arrived. Let me leave you here where you can wait to be called." We entered a well lit cavern filled with perhaps a dozen people. I recognized many of the faces I had seen in the conference room. Eluloch was there as well, dressed in simple garb of grey and green.

"Now, Legolas," Galion said quickly, "It will be your job to show your support for your father by sitting quietly next to his throne while he speaks." He turned and hurriedly left the room.

The cavern where we were gathered was a fairly small space and I felt overshadowed by the tall figures that stood around me. I looked around again, until I spied Eluloch's face. He caught my attention, then using the Laegren hunter's language, he raised his eyebrows, _What have we here?_

I smiled at his jest, and answered by thrusting my chin in the air, and shaking my head, _Many creatures, all tall._

He clicked his tongue behind his teeth in sympathy. Then furrowed his brow. _Danger?_

I opened my mouth and shut it tight. _We will get eaten by these creatures._

Eluloch's eyes sparkled and he extended his hands in greeting. I walked over and grasped his hands, then turned so my back was leaning against him. He draped one arm across my chest. I sighed in satisfaction. Eluloch's village might be far away, but he was family. And the Sindar in the room never knew what had transpired.

After a bit of a wait we were instructed to get ready to go onto the dais. I was to go first, followed by the advisors. Eluloch was last. I was to stand until the king arrived and then be seated. Several torches lit the dais from the front, making it hard to see beyond them. I could tell that there were many Laegrim in the room. Their energy rustled through the cavern like a breeze tethered by a string. The Sindar were there as well, but more solid and patient.

Just in front of the dais, Talagand and several other musicians were playing instruments that I did not recognize. They finished with a flourish, and one of the guards announced, "Aran Thranduil Oropherion, the Elvenking."

My father stepped forward from the other side of the room. He was dressed in deep burgundy and grey. His face looked calm, but I could see a glimmer of unease in his eyes. He stood for a moment before the throne, facing the people. There was a great rustling as everyone bowed, and then the king was seated. I followed his lead. I sat quietly in the oak chair that someone had set beside the king's throne and caught myself just a moment before my legs started to swing. I watched the king intently. I did not know what he was going to say.

The king stood slowly and calmly. He looked around the room waiting until it was absolutely silent to begin. "You are my subjects," he said at last, in a voice that was clear and strong enough to carry to the very edges of the cavern, "but you are also my friends. I value you each as an important part of what makes our kingdom great. It is in your hearts to celebrate the cycles of the years immersed in the gracious woods that surround us. It is in my heart to celebrate with you. Yes," he continued, "there have been many celebrations in our long journey together, but there have also been seasons of grief and sorrow. Last night you joined Eluloch in lamentations for Merilin. Today, I am here to confirm that a new season of shadow is encroaching upon us, and we must again take up arms to defend the forest and the people who dwell within."

The cadence of my father's voice was strong and soothing. After a time, I lost track of the words and focused only on the beautiful rhythms of his voice. I was brought abruptly back to the moment when my father paused. He turned and looked at me. I could not discern the look in his eyes before he turned again to the people.

"And so it is, dear friends, that I must travel tomorrow with Lainethir's company to determine more accurately the extent of the incursion and formulate the most effective response."

I sat straight up in my chair. My father was leaving? My heart pounded. He had said nothing to me about leaving. Was that why he had been so kind to me in the conference room? Why hadn't he told me? Was that my discipline, to gain my father only to lose him again? How long had Ereglin said that the company would be gone? Ten years? In my short life, that seemed like a very long time. It was not fair. It was not right. I felt like I had just about as much as I could take of this king and his strange ways. I bit my lower lip and resisted the impulse to fly from the room. With a start, I realized that the audience was over. The king stood and departed through a door to the right. I left with the other retainers through the door to the left.

Once again I felt lost amidst the tall forms of gracious Sindar. My thoughts were still whirling. I looked around for a familiar face, only to find Galion making his way towards me.

"Legolas, your father has asked me to come to you. He can't meet with you just now, but he'll try to come to your rooms as soon as he can get away. There have been new developments. He wants to be with you, but the situation in the south needs his urgent attention. He may not find time to seek you out until tomorrow, but he will find you before he goes. You have his word on that."

I crossed my arms defiantly. I had had enough of what the king wanted. "What I need right now," I said, trying to replicate the firm strong voice of my father, "Is some time alone. Talagand told me to seek the maple tree, and that is where I will be should the king wish to find me." I looked at Galion, and then looked down. I knew that I wasn't sure of the paths I needed to take to get me to the yard.

If Galion was taken aback by my proclamation he did not show it. He was silent for a moment, but then he bowed to me, "As you wish, my prince. I know of a way to the yard that will bypass the kitchen. Will you come?"

As I climbed the tree, the rage and frustration fueled my steps until I found myself quite near the crown. There were no branches thick enough to sit on, so I wedged my feet amidst some of the smaller branches and held my body close to the trunk.

I closed my eyes and tried to center myself. I could feel the caress of the warm afternoon sun. I could smell the odors of the yard; the tang from the tanner, the smell of the horses, the lingering scent of bread baking. Under it all was the sweet smell of spring, of new things growing and unfolding into life. I opened my eyes and looked down. Those things seemed empty and flat set against the fire of my anger. Far below me I could see Galion looking up at me. Finally, he shook his head and retreated into the caverns.

I let the tempest in my heart flame anew. Nador would never have made me wait for consequences of my transgressions, but the king had. The king had ignored me for days, then he had interrupted my singing with Talagand. And the king had me dress and sit on the dais to do what? To tell me that he would be gone for years and years! He was unfair, and unkind and I would wish him good riddance if he thought he could punish me by leaving. I didn't like him anyhow.

I knew that if I were to sing it would be filled with roughness and discord, so I simply grabbed the branches tighter until my knuckles turned white. I thought of shouting my anger, but I knew that it would do no good.

There was a late afternoon breeze that rocked me in my perch gently. It wrapped around me like a soft caress, reminding me to breathe. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Such rage was probably not the right thing to do. I was sure Nathel would have had strong words for me if she had seen my heart. What would Nathel have me do? I missed her terribly. I took another deep breath and sighed. She would have been upset that I climbed so high when I was angry. She would have challenged me to let go of the conflict in my heart and she would admonish me to listen.

Listen? Yes. There came to my mind then, a time when I was very young. There was a great storm that blew so hard that a large branch fell from the upper stories of our tree to crash down upon my _talan_. We had slept under the cover of the community pavilion that night, so we weren't there when it happened, but I remember being very angry and upset at the damage that was done to my sleeping place. I thought it very unfair that a branch should destroy something that was so important to me. Nathel held my hands that morning, and made me center myself. She told me to breathe out the frustration and the anger, and breathe in and listen. When I followed her guidance, envisioning myself as the great tree dropping such a great branch, I could feel the tree's massive weight and the strength of its mighty trunk. I could sense, too, the resigned feeling of loss when the branch fell. It was when I let go of myself and really focused on listening that I unexpectedly felt from the tree a sense of concern for some small lives that had been in the branch when it fell. Without asking permission, I dropped Nathel's hands and went to where the very top of the branch had extended from our_ talan_ to the ground. There, in the midst of the heavily leaved branches, I found a nest with four baby squirrels. How they had survived the fall, I will never know, but my anger vanished and I was filled with pleased wonder that they still lived.

I determined then that I would listen to the king. It took me several deep breaths to let go of my anger and frustration, several more before my body was fully calmed. When I was ready, I took a moment to renew my grip upon the branches. Then I closed my eyes and began my listening. At first I remembered the look on his face and the calm joy in his body as he shared the fish with me. I remembered the kind courtesy he showed to me when he asked about my listening to the wood; the look of surprise when he heard Eluloch speak of the Laegren Prince, and the deep sorrow when he spoke of the forest lost to the shadows. But those were all memories. I needed to listen. I breathed in the warm spring breeze and felt the firmness of the smooth branches pressing against my hands. I breathed out the last of my tension, and I listened.

What I envisioned was at first a heart filled with sorrow, anxiety, and proud determination. There was anger there, but it was directed towards the Necromancer and his minions. There was a burning zeal to fight without stopping, without thinking; to just go and beat upon the darkness until it was vanquished. There were thoughts of strategy and wise words and careful planning. Listening to my father was ever so much more complicated than listening to a tree. I felt my hands loosening their hold. I shifted my stance and renewed my grip.

Listen.

Amidst the swirl of emotions and thought, I sensed a thin tendril of fear that things might not go well because of his own failings, and a warm strong sense, like a round stone in the sunshine, that I realized was my father's love for me. My hands and knees were beginning to tremble from the effort of listening. I took in a sharp breath, breathed out, then opened my eyes. For a moment I felt oddly out of balance, but the trunk of the tree held firm against my chest.

I felt numb inside. I had spent so much energy in the past two days wondering and worrying about the punishment for my transgression, but I realized that what had loomed so large for me was of little consequence to my father. He had great burdens of care weighing heavily upon his soul. He bore the weight of a whole forest, of many villages, of many people.

I felt my heart shift, then. Listening helped me to see things in a new way. It was not the way of my people to dwell in anger, but to share in the bearing of burdens. I set my shoulders back and lifted my chin. If there were any shortcomings, I needed to own those that were mine. In my short time at the Halls I had managed to cause him trouble any number of ways. Getting lost in the caverns had been foolish, listening where I wasn't welcome, entering where I should not have been; they must have all added burdens to the king. If I was to be any kind of prince, I would need to stop making so many blunders and try to share my father's burden. I looked at the river. Slowly, a plan came to mind.


	12. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

Dusk had all but given over to dark when I made my way down from the maple tree. I felt calm and clear headed as I went back to my room. It was quite late, but I was pleased that within a few minutes of my arrival Ereglin came up to serve me supper in my room.

"Were you at the assembly?" I asked him when he arrived.

"No, Legolas, the assembly was for those more important than I am." Ereglin put the tray on the table and began laying out the dishes. It was a simple meal of stew and cheese and bread. I eyed it hungrily.

"You are important to me," I said. "You brought me my supper."

"Impudent rascal," said Ereglin. "What would you like for breakfast in the morning? I think Heledirn will allow me out of the kitchen long enough to serve you." He stepped back and indicated that I should be seated.

"I don't really care," I responded, "I would like to see my father off. When will that be?"

"They plan to leave an hour after dawn. They will be prompt if Lainethir has his way. Now is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No," I said, "I can get myself to bed. Can you tell Gwenen that she doesn't need to come tonight?"

Ereglin nodded, "If you would like me to stay, Legolas? I do not relish more time in the kitchen this evening. Half of those who came for the king's audience stayed for supper, and Heledrin is still finishing up provisioning the company for tomorrow. He is in quite the temper."

Ereglin told me tales from the kitchen while I ate. When I was done, he gathered the dishes and left. As soon as the door closed I crossed to my window and looked out. The moon was just rising; it was nearly full and brilliant. The leaves on the birches shimmered silver and the lake was an inky black. I smiled to myself. It would be a good night for my plan.

I pulled off the clothes that I had worn to the throne room, but instead of putting on my night shift, I selected a simple outfit that I was not too fond of. I took a length of ribbon and tied back my hair. Finally, I fetched my little knife and its sheath from its place in the wardrobe.

At first, I was afraid of being found out before I could make my escape. In the end, I doubted that my father would be coming to talk with me. The messenger and his news would probably take all of his time. I didn't plan to go out until the moon had crossed most of the sky, until then I intended to spend the hours enjoying the moonlight and singing. If my father did happen to come to me, I decided that I would feign sleep, and pretend that I had fallen asleep in my clothes.

I managed to stay awake until the appointed hour, then opened the door and slipped into the hallway. The idea I had in my mind sounded quite easy. As my father had gifted me with grilled fish for breakfast, I had decided to return the favor. My plan was simple. I would climb to the top of the wall and dive into the water on the other side. Once there I would catch my father some fish and then bring them to the kitchen for cooking. I wasn't too clear how I would cook the fish, but I knew the kitchen folk well enough to know that they would be willing to help.

The hallways were well lit by torches. With care, I discovered that I could slip through the corridors unheeded. Just to be safe, I envisioned myself as a snake sliding silently and smoothly through the tunnels. I took the route to the kitchen most of the way, but then turned off to take the corridor that Galion had led me on during the afternoon. I stopped for a moment before stepping outside.

The light from the moon was brilliant, but the trees, the buildings and the pathways were all illuminated in shades of gray, not color. Objects and trees cast dark moon shadows across the ground. The yard, usually filled with the sounds of many people at work, was silent, save for the call of a gray owl high in the trees. I could hear the rush of the water as the river sped on its course. For a moment I reconsidered my options, but then I lifted my chin. I knew that I was an excellent swimmer. I would surprise my father with fresh fish and he would be proud of me and smile and be happy.

I stepped into the yard and hurried to stand in the shadows of the tannery, which backed upon the ramparts. There was a space between the tannery and the wall just wide enough for me to do some climbing. I checked my knife to make sure that it was secure and spent a few moments planning my route. I was pleased to find a number of crevices and ledges large enough for me to use. I breathed in slowly, then breathed out and began to climb.

Climbing the wall was not much more difficult that climbing a tree and I made it to the top fairly quickly. The top of the wall was wide enough for several soldiers to walk abreast. The parapet on the exterior of the wall was nearly as high as my head. Quickly I hoisted myself to the top of it and looked down the other side.

The river was beautiful in the moonlight. From my spot, looking down and to my left, I could see Heledirn's fish trap. With its long arms mounted on a moving wheel, it looked black and elegant, like a strange kind of dancer twirling to the music of the water rushing by. Directly below me I could discern no bank to break my fall, and the water looked both wide and deep, much grander than our sanguine river at home. For a moment I was a little nervous. I had never dived from such a height before, and even though I loved to swim I wasn't sure how the river would receive me. I looked across the water and upriver a little ways. There on the far bank was a cluster of cattails, no doubt marking a place where fish would be hiding. I thought again of retreating to my bed, but the idea that this would be a parting gift, that I would see my father no more for many years, spurred me onward.

Carefully I pulled myself up and balanced on the edge of the parapet. As I jumped I thought myself very wise for remembering to jump into unknown waters feet first.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten to consider just how cold the water would be. Spring was well underway, but the temperature of the water felt more like fresh snowmelt. My body sliced through the water and I was enveloped in a frigid hold that numbed me to the core. The ribbon slid off of my hair. I could feel my hair floating freely around my head. With a jarring thud, my feet hit the riverbed and my knees buckled at the impact. In less than a moment I was headed for the surface, but before my head breached the surface I was caught in a powerful current and carried under.

With strong, sure strokes I made my way to the surface, but I had barely time to draw a breath before the current pulled me under again. I tried to swim back to the surface, but the twisting of the water disoriented me, and I could not tell which way was up. I held my breath as long as I could. The water surged around me. My lungs felt as though they would burst. I felt dark and dizzy.

All of a sudden a thick rod caught me across my chest and I was dragged further under the water. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, the rod dragged me up again, barely breaking the surface of the water before it came to a stop. Desperately I sucked in several lungfuls of air. I felt the current tugging at me again and barely had the presence of mind to grasp the rod and hang on for dear life. In a moment it occurred to me that I must have gotten tangled in the fish trap. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back so that I could breath in all the air that my lungs would hold.

Suddenly, over the sound of the water I could hear voices.  
"Come, I think he came this way!"

There was a shuffling nearby and I opened my eyes. I was staring into the eyes of two very surprised guards.

They looked at me for a moment dumbfounded, then the shorter one grabbed the arm of the other for stability and reached out to pluck me from my perch. Gracelessly I was hauled from the water until I lay on dry land, at the feet of the one who had rescued me. I began coughing and retching uncontrollably. Gentle hands pulled my hair back from my face and supported me until the spasms abated.

"Easy there, little one. How did you get here?"

"I told you, I saw him jump from the parapet."

"Don't be a fool, Gwion, nobody would be stupid enough to jump from the parapet. C'mon now, youngling, how did you get here?"

"I jumped from the parapet," I whispered.

"Whose child is this anyways? I don't recognize him. Ask him his name, Gwion."

I spoke between the chattering of my teeth. "My name is Legolas. I'm the son of the King."

I am ashamed to say that I was actually carried to the guardhouse. My legs trembled so badly that I could not stand. Once there I was stripped of my clothing and wrapped in a warm blanket. My teeth were chattering uncontrollably, so one of the guards built up the fire in the small fireplace that served the room and sat with me on the floor, my back to his belly and his arms around me for warmth. I don't know why, but I felt very sleepy but the two who had rescued me would not let me sleep.

"Here, try some of this," said Gwion at one point. Obediently I sipped from the cup. The liquid was clear and smelled strongly. It burned on the way down, but it did a good job of waking me.

"Now, Legolas," said the short guard when I had revived a bit. "Suppose you tell us why you decided to take a swim in the river in the middle of the night?"

I looked down. I could feel myself blushing from embarrassment. It had been a foolish idea, and I was reluctant to talk about it. "My father is going away today," I said finally, "and I wanted to make him some fish for breakfast."

The short guard looked at me grimly. "You needed to nearly kill yourself to make breakfast? Are you daft?"

"Hush Magollin," said Gwion firmly from his place behind me, "You can't talk to the Prince that way."

"He's right," I mumbled, "I just wanted to catch him some fresh fish for breakfast. I thought I could cook it in the kitchen." I shivered and burrowed back into the blanket.

"The question is," said Magollin, "What do we do now?"

"I could just go back to my room." I offered.

"And have the king find out about this from someone else? Not a wise choice," said Gwion. "No, I think that given your current condition we'd best get King Thranduil down here as soon as possible. Magollin, go get someone to fetch the King. And see if there is any way to find the Prince some dry clothes."

I groaned and tried my best not to cry.

I could not read my father's face when he entered the room about twenty minutes later. He was tired, that was clear. But there was a dark somberness about him that did not bode well for me. I knew that at last I had done something to truly deserve his anger. There was nobody else to blame.

He crossed the room and knelt down to where I was sitting on the floor. He gazed long at me, and I could see a range of emotions cross his face. I bit my lip and looked away.

"I am so sorry-" I began, but my father did not listen. He scooped me up damp blanket and all and held me close.

"Talk to me, ion nin. What troubles you so that you needed to jump from the parapet?"

His kindness was more than I could bear. I began to cry uncontrollably. "I didn't mean, I just," I stammered.

"What he means to say, Your Highness," said Gwion from his spot on the floor, "is that he was hoping to catch you a fish for breakfast to see you off on your trip."

"Is that true, Legolas?" I nodded and hid my face.

"Look at me, little one." I looked up and found myself looking into the eyes of the King. He was strong and stern and courageous and he had the wisdom of the ages in his eyes. I took a deep breath and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Ada," I said at last, "I know that there are many burdens for you. I just wanted to help."

The King chuckled then and held me tight. Only when his tears splashed on my face did I realize that he was crying.

We sat for a moment together on the floor and I felt secure in the circle of his arms.

"You frightened me little one," the King said at last.

"I didn't mean to," I said, "and I'm sorry that I ran away from supper, and I'm sorry that I listened at the door, and I'm sorry that I was in the wrong room when Eluloch was talking, and I know I am not very good at being a prince yet. I guess I wanted you to like me, but I don't know how."

The King embraced me again and kissed me on the top of my head. "You don't have to do anything for me to like you, Legolas. You are my son. There is nothing you can say or do that would keep me from loving you every day of your life."

I frowned, "But then why didn't you tell me what my consequence was?"

"Your consequence?"

My heart sank. Could it be that he did not remember?

"Ah, yes, that little incident with Eluloch. Well, Legolas, did you know that what you did was wrong?"

I wanted to say no, that I was too young to understand, but then I remembered that I was going to try to be a better prince. "I knew it was wrong, Ada. I just followed Ereglin because it was the easiest thing to do."

My father adjusted his hold so that I could look at him more easily. "Legolas, I don't know what you expect to receive as punishment, but the fact is, I will not be here to supervise you. Listen carefully, for this is what I expect of you." He paused until he was sure he had my undivided attention. "I will not forbid you to go anywhere or be anywhere in the vicinity of the Halls. As my son, all will be open to you at any time. I set on your shoulders the burden of figuring out what is appropriate and what is not, and to only put yourself in those places where I would be proud to find you."

"I don't understand."

"Your punishment, such as it is, _ion nin_, is that from now on you must think for yourself what the right course of action is and then be true to your calling. You must not be swayed from doing the right thing by the misguided words or wrong actions of others. Will you swear to obey me in this?"

I nodded.

"Tell me in words," said the King.

"I promise that I will try to think of the right thing to do, and do the right thing. I will not be swayed by the misguided words or wrong actions of others. I swear this to you." This was the first oath I had even sworn, and little did I know then how dearly those words would cost me later on.

Soon after that, the door to the guardroom opened and Magollin showed up with a bundle of clothing in his hands. Ereglin was right on his heels. He stopped when he saw my father and stared, wide eyed at the two of us.

"Your Highness," he began.

"First you are where you should not be, and then you aren't where you should be," growled the king angrily, "Ereglin, what am I going to do with you?"

"Forgive me sire, but I had no idea that Legolas planned to jump into the river. I arrived early this morning because I needed to get him up early to make sure that he would see you off."

"He will see me off, Boronelion, but then you must take greater care that he is kept safe. Do I make myself clear?"

Ereglin swallowed, "Yes, Your Highness. Forgive me, I just-"

"Enough. You have kept him well and happy since he arrived here. I think you are more competent that you wish to admit. I am making his safety your responsibility. Do not fail me in this, Ereglin."

Ereglin looked quite miserable, but he bowed his head, "Yes, sire."

"Legolas," said the King, setting me on my feet, "I will leave you now, but we will talk again before I go. Get yourself dressed and meet me in my room as soon as you can." The king got gracefully to his feet and departed.

I was dry and clothed and much calmer when I entered the king's room a while later. Galion was there, efficiently packing tunics and small clothes into the top of a large pack. My father was dressed for travel. He wore heavy boots, and a dark green cloak was thrown over his shoulders. Soft leather gloves covered his hands and the leather tunic that he wore made him look like a warrior. I stood in the doorway and gazed at him, unsure of my welcome.

"Come in, come in, Legolas," He said, beckoning me. "I have some words for you before I go."

"Do they have to stay in this room?"

He smiled at me, "That would be a good idea, _neth ben_," he said. Galion moved a stack of clothing off of one of the chairs and I had a seat.

"I wasn't planning on travelling at all, Legolas, but the messenger who came yesterday brought ill tidings. One of Tologil's soldiers was captured by the orcs about a half day journey across the river. A second patrol persued the captors and wiped out two orc encampments in the process. On their return to the river they were ambushed." He paused, "We lost four warriors, and the rescue attempt failed. As far as I know the rest of the company is still in the field hunting orc." He sighed, "I'm needed there now to define the best strategy to deal with the situation." He looked at me and smiled ruefully. "I think I am a pretty good king, Legolas, but I find that I am failing you as a father."

"Oh no," I protested, "I'm a prince, too, Ada. I will be strong." I stood up to show him how serious I was, but then I thought of the long years he would be away, and I felt the tears coming to my eyes. "Although ten years seems like a long time," I murmured.

"Ten years? Is that what you were told? Sweet Eru, no, Legolas. Galion and I plan to be gone only a month or two." My father sat on the edge of the bed so that we were eye to eye. "I could not leave you for so long, little one. Who gave you that idea?"

"Ereglin said that the soldiers were often in the field for ten years or more."

"Well, he is correct in that. But I can't be spared from the Halls for that long. What other burdens do you have on your heart, ion nin?"

I thought for a minute, "If you don't come back, do I have to be king?"

My father laughed a short, sharp laugh. "Well, the answer is yes, but I fully intend to return."

"Will you sing for me while I am gone?"

"Sing for you?"

I nodded, "When Nador and I go hunting, he sings for Naneth every night and she sings for him."

My father raised his eyebrows, "I can try, Legolas, but then you must watch the stars for me."

"Watch the stars?"

"Look for the first stars of the evening. When you see them, know that I am also looking at them, thinking of you." My father smiled at me, giving me his undivided attention, "Is there anything else you have questions about?" I shook my head, "I have arranged for both Amondorn and Talagand to give you lessons while I am gone, and you are welcome to visit Ereglin's family as you have need." My father reached for me and embraced me in a tight hug. "We will have time together when I return, Legolas. This I promise you."

I leaned into the hug, "And I promise not to go in the river again," I said, "but I will miss you."

"I will miss you too, little one," said my father. He kissed me on the top of my head and I reached my arms around him and gave him a hug. That was the first time that I had ever hugged my father. I could only hope that it would not be the last.

Galion cleared his throat then, making the two of us look up. "It is nearly time for us to depart, my lord. Lainethir does not look kindly on laggards." My father gave me one last squeeze.

"I'm off to get my mount, Legolas. Meet me at the great gates if you would see me off."

I fetched Ereglin from my room and we hurried to the great gates. We got there just as the company was getting into formation. Lainethir was there on his grey stallion and, as we drew near, my father arrived on a magnificent horse of midnight black. In the days to come I would often reflect on that farewell image of my father the king, tall and strong and invincible, wise beyond words and ready to do everything he could for the welfare of his people. I could not explain the depths of my feelings. I had seen him only a few days and been with him only a few hours, yet my love for him filled my heart. I smiled and bade him safe journey.

-

Well, there it is. Writing is starting to come more easily, but I struggle with tone - adding the right amount of humor and gentle (not cheesy) angst. Oropher is getting ready to move off stage for a bit. Hopefully a few other characters will have room to speak without loosing the tension between Legolas and his father. Thanks for any sort of feedback/critique you might have. I know that there is always room for improvement!


	13. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14**_

I stood quite still and waited. High overhead I could hear a midsummer's breeze whisper across the canopy, but down near the ground, the warm damp air sat like a blanket on my shoulders. In my line of view I could see the tangle of underbrush and the slender trunks of the dogwood and redbud. Behind them rose the gallant beech grove; sentinels to the forest. The music of the forest stilled and I held my breath. In a moment, I could sense Brethilas drawing near on footsteps near as silent as my own. I waited, tense as a bowstring. He crossed my line of vision at a distance. I could tell that he didn't know that I was close. A branch snapped under his foot and he stilled, listening. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I burst from my hiding place and ran laughing to tag him. He jumped nearly a foot in the air in surprise, "I see you, Legolas!" he shouted. Then we both ran as fast as we could to Nathel's fire. First one there was the winner.

I woke in the great bed of the Halls breathing hard. The smile that had been on my face faded and I looked around at the stone cavern that had become my home. I had been dreaming. Again. The dreams were a welcome sorrow. Welcome because they reminded me of my dear family, sorrow because I had left that all behind. I grabbed my pillow and hugged it to my body tightly. I pressed my face into its softness and breathed deeply until my sadness abated.

Over near the fireplace, Ereglin stirred on his pallet. He had taken my father's charge to heart and declared that the only way to watch over me properly was to stay at my side at all times. I offered to share my bed with him, (Brethilas and I shared a much smaller talan at home), but he protested that it wasn't proper. It was actually a blessing to have him near on those long evenings when sleep eluded me. He knew many stories that I had never heard and was always willing to tell them to me, or to talk about events of the day. I had shared many things with him as well, although I was reluctant to tell him about my dreams. They were a precious reminder of home, and even with the pain of waking, I was loathe to find a way to stop them.

I held very still until Ereglin settled again and then I kicked off the blankets that covered me. Spring had given way to the warmth of summer since my father's departure, and Midsummer's Eve would soon be upon us. At home it would be one of the great high holidays. Here in the caverns I wasn't so sure. Ereglin just said that for the kitchen folk it was one of the high work days and let it go at that. It would be hard to miss the Midsummer Celebration in the village. There were times it would have been nice to go home for even one day, to reassure myself that my home still endured. There were so many people I would like to have conversations with. There were many that I never said a proper goodbye to.

I put my hands behind my head and sighed. The wise gentle face of Istuilalf came to mind. He was Avorrim, and had been walking beneath the stars since the Great Awakening. He had been many things during that time, leader, healer, hunter, story teller. In all that time he had never lifted a blade in anger nor fought in any wars. In the village he was our master singer. When I was still an infant I would have bouts where I would cry uncontrollably. Nathel would bring me to Istuilalf and I would lay upon on his chest. He would sing to me songs that were low and strong; songs without words. My whole body would respond to the music and I would be calm and comforted.

As I grew older, I loved to spend time with Istuilalf. He preferred to be awake in the night, when the stars could look down upon him. With Nador's leave, Brethilas and I would sit with him on a high bluff overlooking the river. Istuilalf would tell us the stories of the stars and teach us melodies from distant times. The melodies were not hard, Istuilalf was an excellent teacher, but the syllables were challenging. They moved through the mouth in unusual ways, pulling forth sounds that played on the emotions and pulled at the heartstrings. Most of the songs were joyful songs celebrating growth and creation, but on occasion Istuilalf would grow melancholy from the weight of his years. He would sing lamentations then, with notes that keened bittersweet and lonely, ebbing and flowing into the great vault of the night sky. It was on one of these occasions that he taught Brethilas and I the Deep Song of grieving. We stayed awake until well after the moon had set, leaning into the depths of the song. It compelled the tears to flow from the deepest recesses of our soul, purging and cleansing our hearts from sorrow. For many nights after that, Brethilas and I would lie on our talan singing the Deep Song to one another until we provoked ourselves to tears. Then we would smile and laugh at the wonder of it all.

The night was dark and empty with no one to talk to. I sighed again to myself and rolled onto my stomach. Talagand's music lessons were a far cry from Istuilalf's. He favored singing in the harp chamber. He said that it was so that we could focus on the music. I still didn't understand how he separated music from the woods, the water and the sky, the very things that sparked the music of the soul, but he was very wise, so I trusted his words.

Since my father left, we had sung together almost every day. He showed me how to warm up my voice by singing note-ladders that climbed up and down. He would not let me dance to the warm ups, but made me stand and center myself so that I could think about my breathing. His way of breathing was awkward. I was to work my stomach and my chest in all kinds of unusual ways. Usually it was fun to sing with Talagand, but it was very different from singing at home.

A warm pre dawn breeze blew through the open window and I looked up to find that the stars were dimming. Dawn was on the way. I stretched and yawned and eased my way off of the bed. Silently I made my way to the window and took my place on the sill. I found that welcoming the dawn from my window was far easier than making my way down to the maple. Also, there were no bemused spectators to observe my morning ritual. Ereglin seemed to put up with my singing quite graciously. He told me that he didn't mind waking to music every day. Greeting the dawn was a tradition not found among the Silvan near the Halls, and he rather enjoyed it.

Quietly I turned my attention to the vista before me. I had to listen carefully to hear the birds singing in the woods far below me. Their melody was like crystal, bright and clean. The leaves on the trees still held the crispness of new summer. The lake was rosy and calm. I relaxed and let go of the lingering thoughts from the night. I breathed in the freshness of the new day. When my heart was in balance, I lifted my chin and I sang and I sang and I sang.

"Good morning Legolas," called Ereglin when I'd finished. "Are you breakfasting in the kitchen or here today?"

I smiled, "Let's go to the kitchen, Ereglin. Heledirn said that he would fix me fresh fish if we came early enough."

"Why don't we just take the fish to my mother?" suggested Ereglin, "She'd be happy to cook it for you."

"And we could have some of her tea." I rejoined. I loved to visit Aegliriel's fire. She had an easy way about her that made me laugh.

We were on our way shortly. The sun was just fully up, but already the air held overtures of a hot day to come. We paused at the center of the bridge, as was our habit, and I scanned the sky. The moisture in the air created a soft blueness, and there was not a cloud in the sky. "A great day to stay out of doors," I proclaimed, "Let's go."

We ran most of the way to the talan. Even though I was much shorter than Ereglin I was faster and in better condition. I could hear him breathing hard behind me, the fish bouncing in their bag with every step. We stopped just short of the fire so that we could make a respectful entrance, but Boronel heard our heavy footsteps and greeted us.

"Mae govenan," he said, not bothering to rise to his feet, "Have you brought honey cakes today?"

"Not honey cakes, Ada, but fresh fish for breakfast. We cleaned them in the kitchen, so they are ready to cook. Where is Naneth?"

"I am right here," said Aegliriel, descending from a talan, "You're up. I haven't even stirred the fire yet." Quickly Aelgiriel knelt and expertly set some wood on the fire. Soon it was crackling merrily. She set the iron grill over the flames and waited for the flames to subside a bit before placing the fish on the grill. Meanwhile, Boronel scooped a kettle of water from the water bucket, then set it directly in the fire to come to a boil.

"Now, let me greet you properly," said Aegliriel, extending her hands to me. I grasped her hands and smiled. "Welcome to my fire, little one. All I have is yours."

"All I have is yours," I responded. "I hope you like the fish."

"We do like the fish. I haven't had time to go fishing for the last fortnight, so it is most welcome," said Boronel gruffly, as Aegliriel nodded. "Ethoron has had us training almost every day of the week from early 'till late. I don't like it. Feels like a bunch of Noldor, all lined up in a row doing things in unison. It's not natural to act that way."

"You said that it improved your swordsmanship," said Aegliriel.

"When sparring with each other, sure," said Boronel, "but it does nothing to prepare us for fighting orc. They are undisciplined and untrained and would just as soon take a bite out of you as run you through."

"Mind you, there are children present," protested Aeliriel.

"It's the way it is," said Boronel.

"Have you fought orc much before?" I asked.

Boronel checked the water to see if it was boiling, then looked at me soberly. "More than I care to admit, Legolas. Fighting the orc is ugly business. Worse than fighting a rabid wolf, it is. The wolf at least is in harmony with nature, but the orcs are desecrated life. They have no heart and they have no soul, just a craven desire to hurt and maim. Killing orc is like slicing darkness. There is no glory in it at all."

I returned Boronel's gaze. "I am sorry," I whispered.

"So am I," said Boronel. He smiled sheepishly. "But as there are no orc nearby, I say we let it go. Are you sure there are no honey cakes today?"

We sat in silence for some minutes. I wanted to ask Boronel if there had been any word from the south. It had been over two months, and except for one rider who had brought back the horses, we had heard nothing. Before I could think of a polite way to ask, Aegliriel steered the conversation elsewhere.

"Gaelin is off duty as of dawn today," she was saying, "She was wondering if Legolas would like to begin learning the bow sometime soon."

"I could do that." I said promptly, trying unsuccessfully to hide my enthusiasm, "Today, maybe?"

Aegliriel laughed and filled a trencher with fish then handed it to me. "I think that was her intention." She filled another plate for Boronel. "You and Ereglin stay near the fire this morning. She'll come by in the next hour or two."

"Are you working today, or would you like to come with us, Ada?" asked Ereglin when all had been served.

"I'm due at the training grounds within the hour," said Boronel, "It'll be a hot day today. I think I'll forget to bring my leather tunic. You and Legolas should have a good time. Gaelin has been working down by Harvest Lake. It might be a good day for some swimming." He quickly finished his fish and gulped down his tea. "I'm off, Aegliriel." He gave her a quick kiss then was gone.

Gaelin showed up within the hour carrying an extra bow and a quiver full of arrows. Her long bow was full size, reaching from the ground almost to her chin. The second bow was smaller but beautifully crafted. The grip was of a variety of dark and light laminated woods, the upper and lower limbs were of birch and etched with an elegant vine design. She handed it to me with a smile.

"This is for you, little prince," she said kindly.

"It's beautiful," I said. Carefully, I took the bow from her hands. "How did you find a bow that was just my size?"

"She made it for you, Legolas." said Ereglin disparagingly.

I looked at Gaelin and she looked back at me with a delighted twinkle in her eyes. "It was my pleasure, Legolas. Good work begins with the right tools."

"Thank you," I said. I was humbled by her generosity.

"Let me get a couple of things from my talan and we will be on our way." said Gaelin

We bid farewell to Aegliriel and headed outward. As we walked, we began a slow descent, then the trail meandered through stands of birch and poplar.

"Where is this Harvest Lake?" I asked after we had been walking awhile.

"It's a couple of miles from here," said Gaelin. "It sits in the middle of an open plain. King Thranduil doesn't believe in much farming, but what he can't get in trade from the Men he grows near the lake. There's a large meadow at the south end of the lake that will be good for bow practice."

The trail ended abruptly at the top of a wide bluff that overlooked a big lake. The lake was narrow enough that I could see across it, but its length was almost hidden by the horizon. Strewn like blankets of different colors were a variety of crops and orchards. We were close to the southern end of the lake where there was an open meadow surrounded by a copse of white pine interspersed with oak.

We made our way down to the meadow. There at the edge of the woods someone had set up several stations for archery. Two clusters of targets had been set at opposite ends of the clearing. Each target was made from a stack of two bales of hay. A target of brightly painted cloth was draped over each stack. The grass between the bales had been trampled down by the passing of many feet.

"This is the range where the foresters come to practice," said Gaelin as she set down her pack and bow.

I looked at the targets and grinned. "How do we begin?" I asked.

"We begin by braiding your hair," said Gaelin. I stared at her in disbelief, but she pulled out a wooden comb from her leather knapsack. "Give Ereglin your bow," she instructed, "and come here."

I obeyed. Ereglin and I had not taken time to properly braid my hair when we departed in the morning and there were several tangles to work through before my hair could be braided. I would have been embarrassed, except for Gaelin's calm no nonsense demeanor. Swiftly she finished combing out my hair and braided it back in six braids along the scalp so that it was well out of the way of my face.

"You'd be surprised how may accidents happen when your hair is not out of the way," she said. She tied off the last of the braids. "There. Now your turn Ereglin."

"My turn?" protested Ereglin, "But you aren't teaching me the bow."

"I'm not?" queried Gaelin. "Are you ill or frightened little brother?"

"No, but I –"

"Look, this is the first chance I've had to get you out alone in decades. You are not going to sit there and tell me that you don't want to learn the bow, are you?"

"But Naneth-"

"Naneth says she doesn't want you to become a warrior. If I was a warrior, I'd be teaching you archery. I'm a forester, so I am teaching you the bow. Long bows are for hunting, Ereglin, recurved bows are for archery. Now come and let me comb out your hair."

Ereglin looked surprised, but I could tell that he was pleased. He handed me my bow and submitted to his sister's ministrations.

When our braids were done to Gaelin's satisfaction, she picked up her bow and slipped the end of it under her foot. Swiftly and with no apparent effort, she grasped the grip with her left hand, and bent the bow with her right until the loop of the string settled firmly in the string nock. She drew it partially a few times to warm it up. I watched her intently, then took up my bow and tried to emulate her movements. "Slow down, Legolas," she said kindly. She handed her bow to Ereglin. "If you do that wrong, you'll be a danger to yourself." She took the bow from me and strung it. "I'll show you how to string the bow in a day or two. Until then, let me do it, alright?"

I was going to protest, but Gaelin suddenly pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back. It was nocked, drawn and shot in one smooth motion. The string hummed and there was a solid "thunk." An arrow protruded from the center of the target at the end of the meadow.

"Here," said Gaelin, "it's a fine bow." She held out my bow. Wide eyed, I reached for it slowly and took it from her grasp. Even Nador could not shoot that well.

I looked down for a minute then looked up and smiled at her, "Perhaps you will teach me to shoot like that?"

Gaelin laughed. "It will take time and patience, Legolas. But if you work hard you'll improve. Here, don't draw your bow just yet, but let me show you how to hold it and how to stand."

The three of us spent the next bit of time working on how to stand and hold the bow. At last Gaelin gave me a short arrow and showed me how to nock it. After my arrow was properly seated on the string, she allowed me to draw slowly and aim the bow. I envisioned the arrow embedded deep in the center of the target. I breathed in deeply and then breathed out again and released the string.

The string snapped against my forearm and thrummed. The arrow sped from the bow and skidded along the ground. I looked dumbly at the red mark that had blossomed on my arm. I looked at the bow in my hand. I was too surprised to cry out at the stinging pain.

"Eh, how could I be so careless?" exclaimed Gaelin. She rummaged through her pack and pulled out two pieces of leather with ties at each end. She handed one to me and gave one to Ereglin. "Here is an arm guard, Legolas. Let me help you put it on and then you can try again."

A second arrow was nocked and I pulled and aimed. The arrow whispered off the string and there was a satisfying "thunk" as it buried itself deep in the bottom bale of hay.

"Look!" I cried, "I hit the bale! Ereglin, did you see that?"

Ereglin was trying to tie his string guard on, but he looked up and grinned at me, "A fine shot, Legolas. Now let me have a turn."

After Ereglin took his turn we spent the rest of the morning learning exercises to develop the muscles of the upper torso. "We'll get to the arms, Legolas, but it's the shoulders that really count in bow work," she insisted after I protested doing so little for the arms. "If your shoulders aren't strong, it won't matter what your arms do."

By midmorning my body began to ache. By noon I could hardly hold the bow. Finally satisfied that she had given us a good workout, Gaelin allowed us to stop for lunch. Wearily I flopped down on the ground and set my bow beside me. "Not yet," said Gaelin firmly. "We don't eat until the bows are unstrung." Deftly she showed me how to remove the string from the string groove and wrap it around the grip to keep it secure.

I had been so immersed in the work of the morning that I hadn't noticed the activity out on the lake. As we ate I could see a half dozen small boats tied up at a mooring nearby. There was the tang of fresh fish in the air. "What are those boats for?" I asked Ereglin, after washing down my bread and cheese with water.

"Those are fishing boats," he said kindly, "You don't think that Heledirn's trap could catch enough fish for the stronghold and its surroundings, do you? Those fishermen use great nets and go out on the water at night to catch fish. They deliver them to the fires and the stronghold every morning. Ada won't eat lake fish," he added, grinning, "he's partial to trout."

After lunch, Gaelin declared that the best tonic for our sore muscles was to swim in the lake. I was stripped and in the water almost before she was done talking, so eager was I to swim. Ereglin was a bit slower getting in and complained loudly about the cold water, but in the end he proved to be as skilled as I was at swimming. The bed of the lake was layered in small stones and as the afternoon wore on we left off swimming and began looking for rocks of different shapes and hues. Eventually we began looking for small flat rocks. After we dressed, Ereglin showed me the trick of skipping stones across the surface of the water. Gaelin did not participate in these games but seemed to be satisfied keeping an eye on us and watching the drama of the day unfold.

We did not return to Aegliriel's fire until the sun was well on its way to setting. Aegliriel already had the supper stew bubbling over the fire and I savored the smell as we drew near. She did not ask if I was staying for supper, she simply filled a bowl and handed it to me. I set my bow next to me as we ate. Boronel soon joined us and the conversation wandered through the events of the day. It was nearly dark when we finally made our way back to the keep. For the first time in a long time, I slept soundly the whole night through.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

I'm wondering if the opening worked well for you.

Other feedback/critique is welcome as always.


	14. Chapter 15 Midsummer is Coming

Amondorn found me during the late afternoon of the next day, belly down peering into the river as it sped under the bridge. Ereglin sat behind me going through the rocks we had already collected from the riverbed. He had no interest in going into the water, and my promise to my father kept me from going into the river. Still, we had managed to collect a good handful of interesting rocks. My goal was to find as many different colors as possible. We were so absorbed in our work that we didn't notice Amondorn's arrival for a span of minutes. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Lord Amondorn!" exclaimed Ereglin. He jumped to his feet and bowed hastily. He kicked the bottom of my foot to get my attention, but I had already turned to look up at the councilor. I scrambled to my feet and happened to look down at my tunic. It was wet and dirty with mud.

Amondorn raised his eyebrows, "Are you ready for your lessons then, Legolas?"

"I'm sorry, Amondorn I was just looking for rocks. I'll run and change if that would help."

The councilor shook his head. "That's not necessary. We can work outside this afternoon." He turned to Ereglin, "Heledirn is looking for you, Ereglin. I think it has something to do with working with the kitchen for Midsummer."

Ereglin's face fell, and he turned and headed back to the caverns. Our pile of rocks lay abandoned on the shore.

"Well, Legolas, shall we head to the birches?" There was a small copse of birches in one corner of the upper terrace where the sandy gravel was just right for tracing tengwar into the sand. We often spent time there and I was becoming fairly proficient at building simple words and phrases.

As we crossed the practice field I took time to watch some of the warriors who were sparring. The practice blades clanged as they struck together and the feet of the soldiers moved constantly, grating the gravel as they stepped. It made a jarring melody that sent shivers up my spine.

When we got to the birches I sat down and got to work. Amondorn sat carefully beside me and watched me. I continued to be fascinated by the way in which a word could be captured for reading with just a few graceful lines. I longed for the day when my writing would be good enough to send word to my family that I was safe and counting the days until I could see them again.

"You are doing very well, Prince Legolas," said Amondorn after a time, "Would you like to stop for a bit and hear a story?"

"You've told me many stories about my family already, Amondorn. Tell me one about you."

"There is not much to tell. I grew up in the Halls of Menegroth in the land of Doriath with your grandfather and his best friend Amdir. They were both from fine families who were members of the court. I was chosen to be their _meldir_, much as Ereglin serves you now."

"Did they ever get into trouble?" I asked. I tried to imagine my father's father as a youngster.

Amondorn smiled, "They were both inquisitive and active, Legolas. More than once they found themselves in predicaments of their own making. They both had a fascination with the primitive cultures that could be found in the woods of Doriath. They even visited the settlement of Ephel Brandir, where the Men dwelt. Why they chose to wander when they could have been happily settled with the comforts of home I will never know, but it was ever my job to be with them and keep them from trouble."

"How did they come to these woods, Amondorn? What happened to Amdir?"

Amondorn brushed some invisible dust from his leggings and replied. "After the War of Wrath, Oropher and Amdir brought their households south. They became known as the Iathrem. Doriath had fallen by then and there really wasn't a home to return to. Amdir and his son settled in Lórinand, your grandfather settled south of here at Amon Lanc."

"And they met the Laegrim, then, right?"

"The Silvans were here to greet them, Legolas. Unfortunately, they were uncouth and uncivilized. They had no common sense, but would wander through the forests half naked, gathering food as they found it, singing and playing for most of their lives. They lived on what they could forage from the forest."

"That sounds like fun," I said.

"It may have been fun, but without farming, they had no way to store food for the winter. Without proper clothing they were more susceptible to the whims of the weather. They were too foolish to care properly for themselves, Little Prince, and some of them died from the elements or starvation.

"Thankfully for them, your grandfather was interested in working among them. He introduced them to the use of metal blades, the basics of farming and even how to dress with appropriate care. They were so grateful that they made him their king." Amondorn sighed. "Oropher always insisted that he became king out of compassion for the wood elves. I for one am glad that he took pity on them."

"I've heard Celthar say that he's only leader because he has to. I suppose it was that way for my grandfather, don't you think?" I asked.

"Let's just say that with proper handling the Silvans have become quite civilized, especially those that live near the Halls. I do like some of the Silvans quite well." He smiled and nodded knowingly.

A pair of squirrels chased across the yard and scrambled up the tree behind us chattering all the way. They disappeared into the crown of the tree. Without thinking I stood and shimmied up the trunk behind them. I had seen several squirrels in the birch before, but they usually didn't build their nests in the smaller trees. Perhaps there was a cache of nuts from the previous winter. I spent a moment or two looking around before swinging from a branch to drop lightly down from the tree.

"Are we done, Amondorn?" I asked. I really wanted to get back to the river.

"One more point for today, Legolas, and then we are done." He stood and brushed off his clothes. "Midsummer is day after tomorrow and your father has not yet returned. In the past, Galion has served as host for the evening, but since he isn't here either, I am wondering if you would be willing? I know that it is a last minute request, but I think you would enjoy yourself. You would need to open the evening portion of the festivities with some kind of welcome, but for the rest of the time you could wander and enjoy yourself."

I thought for a moment. At home Celthar would open the evening with a single song with a simple melody. One by one we would add our voices to his until the clearing resonated with the harmony of the people. Celthar had a beautiful voice it was strong and clear, well suited to his role as leader. For Amondorn to select me for such a task was quite an honor.

"Do you really think I could do it?" I asked, "I am not sure that I am skilled enough."

"You would do fine, Legolas. I'm sure that Ereglin could fill you in on the details."

"Won't you be there?" I asked.

Amondorn looked at his hands for a moment and then looked at me and shrugged, "I know that Thranduil attends every year, but it really is a Silvan holiday and things can get a little too - wild for my taste. I usually observe the evening at the summit of the mountain we live in. I will have to take you there someday, Thranduilion."

"I'd like that, Amondorn." I grinned at him, "I am good at watching stars. Perhaps we can sing to them together."

Amondorn returned my smile. "Off with you now, Prince Legolas. I will see you in tomorrow afternoon in the library."

Quickly I stood and bowed to my teacher, then galloped across the wide yard, taking care to dodge the soldiers as they fought. I ran down the stairs and would have run without stopping through the yard, but I was caught short by the smell of fresh bread in the air. My stomach grumbled loudly and I turned my steps towards the ovens.

"Greetings Prince Legolas," called Selediel, extending her hands in welcome as I drew near. She looked at me and laughed, "Have you been sleeping in the mud?"

I shook my head and grasped her hands for a moment, "No, but I have found some beautiful rocks in the river. You could come with me if you would like to see them."

Selediel, grinned as she nodded, her eyes shining with delight. "I would like to see them!" she declared, "But I can't be spared just now. We are starting to bake for Midsummer's Eve. Would you like a sample?" She knew that I would not refuse her. Selediel disappeared and in a moment returned with two large rolls spread thickly with butter. "One is for you and one is for Ereglin. You will see him soon, won't you?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "If I don't see him soon, I may need to eat his roll too."

Selediel laughed. "And you are welcome to come back for more, if you'd like."

I would have answered, but my mouth was already full of savory bread.

I could see Ereglin sitting on the stone wall of the bridge long before I got there.

"You are looking happy, Ereglin," I said as I approached, "I thought Heledirn was going to ask you to work in the kitchen at Midsummer's Eve."

"Heledirn did ask me to work on Midsummer's Eve," said Ereglin smugly, "But I declined because by the king's orders I'm to take care of you. I did offer to bring you with me, but Heledirn just growled at me and told me to get along. He wasn't too unhappy with me," he said, indicated a tidy bundle at his side, "He sent me back to you with a couple of meat pies."

I grinned, "Here's a roll to go with them," I said, handing him the remaining roll. I leaned against the wall of the bridge and quickly devoured the pie handed to me. When I was done I wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

"You are a sight, Prince Legolas." exclaimed Ereglin, "We should probably get you tidied up before someone important sees you. Come, let's get you some fresh clothing."

"Amondorn has already seen me," I said, as we turned to walk into the caverns, "and he said that I am to host the Midsummer Eve celebration."

Ereglin whistled low between his teeth, "That is quite an honor, Legolas. Will he help you with it?"

I shook my head. "He said that it is too wild for him."

Ereglin laughed and opened the door to my room. "Well, I don't think it is too wild, Legolas. There is singing and dancing and lots of merry making. I have had to work on midsummer for the past twelve years, but before that I was rather good at the knife throwing contest."

I entered the room and stripped off my dirty clothing. "We don't have knife throwing," I said, "but we do have races to run the canopy." I sighed. "This was going to be my first year to run the canopy. Brethilas and I have been practicing every day." I was silent for a moment, "Sometimes we get together with other villages and we have the dance of the fireflies, and the dance of the dawn."

"And the food?" he asked.

I smiled and looked up at Ereglin. "Nathel is the best at making the Midsummer treats. She lets Brethilas and I try them as she cooks!"

"Well, we have a few treats, too. Heledirn's kitchen has already begun cooking for the holiday. Those meat pies are just a sample."

"Where do you celebrate Midsummer?" I asked as I worked my way into a lightweight tunic of deep green and gold.

"The upper clearing to the west of the keep is the only place large enough to hold the dance. We can go up there tomorrow morning and look around if you like. Everyone within a day's ride is welcome, and many of them will arrive tomorrow."

I nodded, "I would like that."

I stood patiently as Ereglin brushed out and rebraided my hair. I noticed that he took care to do it thoroughly. When I was presentable to Ereglin's satisfaction, we walked back out to the river, still discussing the Midsummer celebration.

The rocks were still piled where we had left them. I sorted through them carefully. There were several rocks of varying shades of gray, and an interesting brown one. There was a black rock with speckles that I knew must be quartz, and a very pretty rock that was a dirty red when dry, but turned into a brilliant shiny red when I held it under the water. I saved this last rock, and Ereglin and I took turns throwing the rest of them back into the river.

The next morning I was so eager to get to the upper clearing that I rushed through my singing lesson. "Be at peace, little master," admonished Talgand finally. "You are here to sing, not to dance."

"But I must finish soon," I replied, "because Ereglin is taking me to the upper clearing to see the people who have arrived for Midsummer. I am hosting this year, you know. Amondorn asked me to."

"He did, did he?" responded the harp master. "And do you know what you will be singing?"

"Celthar sings for our village. He listens to the stars, then he sings the Midsummer Song and leads us in harmonies. The song is different every year." I furrowed my brow. "I hope I can listen well enough to sing, Talagand. I have never sung for Midsummer before."

Talagand looked pensive for a minute. "You know your father usually works with me for about a month before Midsummer to get his song into order. He has a good singing voice, but he doesn't use it as regularly as you use yours. I'd like to say that I could train you to sing his songs in a couple of days, but I know that is impossible. Let me give you a few tips on projecting your voice, but then I suppose it will be up to you."

We worked together for another half hour before I was dismissed. I left Talagand's workroom calmly enough, but once the door was closed I ran as fast as I could to the bridge where Ereglin was waiting for me.

"I am ready, Ereglin!" I called. Ereglin laughed at my eagerness.

"The clearing we are going to is west of the keep," said Ereglin as we walked. "It has served to welcome Midsummer for over six hundred years. Before then, they held the festivities on a bluff overlooking the north valley, but lightening caused a fire there. They moved the celebration and never moved it back again."

We continued on a wide path that overlooked the river. The water had slowed with the summer heat; we had had few rains to keep it fed. The part of the river we were passing was wide with gentle banks lined with cattails and grasses. A white egret flew off as we approached, disgruntled that we had interrupted its hunting.

"It doesn't look like anybody has been on this path." I commented.

"They are coming through the woods, not from the keep," explained Ereglin. "Most travel lightly and come through the trees, but they will be there." We walked to the head of a small rise. "Look around you," said Ereglin. "We've arrived."

The clearing that came into view was huge and bare. It was surrounded with white pines interspersed with ancient oaks. The ground was thick with peat and covered with a soft green moss. "Step on it," prompted Ereglin. I stepped out into the clearing. My feet sank slightly into the soft earth, and came to rest on solid rock beneath. "We cultivate the dance surface," said Eregin proudly. "Every year we cover the field with pine needles. Over the winter they turn to mulch and by midsummer they are covered in turn by the moss. No one is allowed in the clearing until Midsummer, but you will find that everyone is here under the trees."

I could hear the low melody of many voices, with an occasional snatch of song. The smell of wood smoke was in the air. I looked more carefully at the oak trees. Many of them held impromptu talain. We carefully skirted the clearing and made our way to a grove of trees where a group of elves, dressed in the tunic and trousers of the village, were congregated. I paused at the edge of the grove and closed my eyes to allow my ears to drink in the lilting cadence of the villagers' voices. Almost immediately, the talking diminished, and I opened my eyes to find a dozen elves staring at me expectantly.

The silence stood between us for a long moment, then a small figure detached herself from the group and came to me, extending her hands to me in welcome. "My name is Lingalad, welcome to our circle."

I smiled and took her hands. "My name is Legolas, I'm honored by your welcome." There was a hushed murmur of "Prince," and "Laegrim Prince," among the others. I dropped my eyes for a moment, and then looked again at the welcoming faces before me. "I'm sorry for interrupting your talking," I said, "but it was so good to hear voices from the villages."

"Well, then, we must talk some more! I am Talfil," said a dark haired figure with gray eyes. He extended his hands in welcome.

"and I am Doronglas," said another.

One by one I was introduced to each member of the group. Most of them extended hands in welcome but one or two bowed with hands over their hearts. I finally remembered Ereglin and introduced him.

"Are you here for the Midsummer?" asked Doronglas when we were done. I nodded, "Then we must sing you a song of welcome." He thought for a moment and then grinned and began a lively song that spoke of the coming of Midsummer and the many features of the season. He was soon joined in harmony by the others and I simply had to add my voice to the chorus. The singing brought others to the clearing and soon I was being introduced to any number of eager Laegrem. I felt immersed in the goodwill of my people. I was content.

It was well after noon when Ereglin informed me that it was time to depart. After much chatter and fond farewells, Ereglin and I took our leave.

As headed back to the river path, we walked under the boughs of two of the largest oaks I had ever seen, each with a broad branch high over our heads reaching out to its neighbor with a span of about twenty five feet between them. Oddly enough, there was no undergrowth beneath the trees, just more of the moss that covered the clearing.

I turned to Ereglin and raised my eyebrows in question.

"Don't you celebrate with a Leaping?" asked Ereglin.

"No, what is that?"

"Well it can only be done after the _malengalas_ has been sampled several times, and then by only the best dancers. They climb the taller of the two trees and then leap from one branch to the other."

I looked at him skeptically. "That is quite far for someone to leap. What if they don't jump far enough?"

"There is the net of the people waiting underneath to catch them."

I shook my head. The Silvans near the keep held some odd traditions.

Almost as soon as we were in the river path I caught sight of a odd but familiar form making his way towards us. He was dressed all in gray and carried a huge leather pack on his back. His bare feet were dirty, and the dust from the road covered the bottoms of his trousers. He carried a pouch at his belt and as we approached he gracefully scooped a handful of nuts from the pouch into his mouth. He caught sight of us just after filling his mouth. He chewed and swallowed as swiftly as he could.

I looked at him for a moment and then grinned. I hadn't seen the trader in almost a year. "Taenor!" I cried out as I ran to him. Taenor smiled. He did not bother to extend his hands, but swept me up in a welcoming hug.

"Ai, Legolas, I was hoping to find you here. Talk is all over the woods that you have returned to your father's care. How are you, little one?" He released me and stepped back. "You are looking quite different, that's to be sure."

"I am fine," I said dismissively, "but how are you? Have you been to my village yet? Have you seen my aunt and uncle and Brethilas?"

Taenor shook his head. "Slow down, Legolas. I was going to go there before Midsummer, but I got waylaid. I had an interesting encounter with a small village of Men who have absolutely perfected the art of crafting elderberry wine. Now, it's not Dorwinion, that's to be sure, but it's not half bad. I've brought a few bottles with me. We'll see what the king thinks of it, eh?"

I shrugged. I had no interest in such things. "Will you be going to my family's village soon?" I asked.

Taenor pursed his lips and looked at the sky. Then he looked at me and smiled. "Well, it's like this, Legolas. I'm here for the Midsummer, that's for sure. I usually pick up some nice hand carving when I'm here. Not to say that your uncle doesn't do fine carving, but his work is usually in larger pieces. The items I get here are always easy to sell to Men, or at least trade for things that the eldar want. But as for going to visit your family, well, I suppose that might be a good place to head when the celebrations are done. Do you have anything for me to give to them? I'd be honored to be your messenger, Legolas. I'd be happy to do it."

Frantically I tried to think of something that I could send to my family to let them know I was well. All I could think of was the little red stone that I had fished out of the river. "Can I bring you something tomorrow to give to them?" I asked.

Taenor nodded and with a flourish he bowed quickly to Ereglin. "'Till later then, Legolas," he said. He moved onward, "I'm sure I'll be easy to find."

"He's an odd one," commented Ereglin, after Taenor had disappeared around a bend.

I laughed. "Nador says that he has spent too much time among Men. He has always been welcome in our village, even though he is a little different. I don't know how he gets through the paths of the woods with that pack, but he always comes to visit us near Midsummer."

As we continued back to the keep, Ereglin kept up a constant stream of chatter about the Midsummer's Eve celebration.

"What will I do as host?" I asked finally. "Is it different here at the Halls?"

"I don't know if it's different," replied Ereglin, "but I can tell you that the contests start early in the morning and run all day. When they are over you will receive the crown of Midsummer and as Aran Nelyar, you will open the ceremonies with the first partaking of the _malengalas_ and the Song of Silence."

"Then it will be time for my song?"

Ereglin nodded. "As soon as the stars begin to shine, you will sing the Song of Awakening. After that is the second partaking of the _malengalas_ and the dances of the night. The third partaking is at midnight followed by the dances of the dawn. Running the canopy and the Leaping happen just before dawn."

"I was quite good at running the canopy at home," I sighed. "Perhaps I will be able to do it next year?"

Ereglin looked at me and grinned, "There are any number of young ones who would be honored to race you in the canopy, Legloas. Have you run them for long?"

I smiled and shrugged. "I've walked them for many years, but I've only been allowed to run them for two summers." We walked in silence for a time. I found myself wondering how Brethilas would do with running the canopy come Midsummer. My thoughts wandered as we walked. I closed my eyes for a moment trying to recall the pleasant features of Gwilither and his kind admonitions when teaching us how to run on the ropes.

Gwilither was our cerediraph. It was his charge to oversee the weaving of the camraph or hand woven ropes that the Silvans stretch between the branches of the canopy. The true camraphs are made from hithlain, a mixture of hemp and different plant matters which are woven to make a triangular rope the width of a man's thigh. The rope is strung with the flat side up, which provides secure footing for the elf. The trick comes in staying atop the rope as it sways in the wind, or bounces with the traffic of several individuals using the rope at the same time. Learning this skill takes time and patience. If training is not begun very early, when the body is still forming its sense of balance, it can never be learned well enough to assure safety in the canopy.

Brethilas and I were fortunate Gwilither had a kind and generous heart. When we were still clinging to Nathel's skirts to help us to walk he wove for us our first set of ropes and secured them within a few inches of the ground. Nathel would spend an hour or two with us every morning teaching us the child songs and walking us along the course of the ropes. As our confidence improved, she would encourage us to stand on one foot, run and even jump on the narrow ledge of the camraph. Nador would often stop by and teach us little games to play during our rope time. Gwilither took great delight in crafting new places to set the camraph to challenge our sense of balance. He had great confidence in our ability to learn, and we would do anything to hear his joyful, "Well done!" when we finished a course without falling.

With such intensive and loving tutelage, Brethilas and I became quite comfortable at running the low ropes, and eventually came the day when we were granted permission to tread alone the camraph path between our maple tree and a nearby oak. The whole community turned out to watch us make our first solo crossing. Nador stood at the edge of our talan holding our hands. We stared in wide-eyed wonder as our friends and family stood beneath the rope grasping one another's shoulders to create a human net that would catch us if we should fall. I looked along the path of the rope and could see Nathel waiting at the far end. Even from the distance I could tell that she was eagerly awaiting our arrival. She had no doubt that we would do well.

Nador did not speak, but bent and kissed Brethilas on the brow. Brethilas let go of his father's hand and took a deep breath. He sobered for a moment, then caught sight of his mother's face and smiled shyly. Slowly he set his foot upon the width of the camraph. He closed his eyes, took another deep breath, then opened his eyes and began to traverse the distance.

I did not breathe the whole time that Brethilas was walking. He stepped lightly along the rope. It barely moved beneath his feet. Swiftly he covered the distance to his mother and at the very last minute sped from the end of the rope into her warm embrace. She hugged him tightly and the elves of the community cheered and laughed at his success.

Then it was my turn. I was not as bold as my cousin, and I must confess I had some reservations about my ability to cross the rope without falling. I held onto my uncle's hand tightly and could feel the first tendrils of fear wind around my heart. He knelt in front of me and I clung to him tightly. He embraced me then, and began to sing. It was a simple child song, one of my favorites. It was not the words but the music that calmed my heart. The melody was soon picked up by the elves that waited beneath the ropes. They sang for me sweetly and joyfully. It was a song of confidence and strength. The tendrils of fear pressed upon me and then began to vanish, as if smoke from a fire. My uncle kissed me on the brow and turned me to face the rope.

I took a deep breath and raised my hands to the sky, trying to go of the last wisps anxiety and fear. I looked down upon my family and friends and tried to smile. The music was strong and sure. I tried to hold fast to it.

Timidly, I took that first step, and then another. The rope began to tremble beneath my steps. I closed my eyes for a moment and let another cleansing breath leave my body. Suddenly, into the space where the tension had been, slid an almost indescribable feeling of joy and wonder. The song upheld me. I could feel the love of those beneath me as strong arms. They would not let me fail. I smiled and opened my eyes, realizing with unexpected delight that the thought of crossing the rope would be fun, not frightening. I danced along the woven path, then. Each step was sure and strong. I would not fall, I could not fall. I laughed as Nathel reached for me and embraced me. Such is the way of the wood elves. I never feared the ropes again.

"Eh, Legolas, what are you dreaming of?" said Ereglin, interrupting my reverie with amused tolerance. I looked at him and smiled.

"Just remembering my home, Ereglin. Never mind. I'll race you to the bridge!" 

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Well, there it is. Your thoughts, comments and critiques are always most welcome. Thank you for reading. 


	15. Chapter 16 Legolas is king of Midsummer

Ereglin was up before I was on Midsummer Eve's Day. He had a simple table set with porridge and tea before I was even out of bed. At first I thought it was very early, but then I realized that the sun was up and hiding behind a ceiling of gray. A light rain was falling. I slid out of bed and made my way to the great window. The little woods could hardly be seen for the rain, and a white mist had settled over the lake. As I opened the window, a cool breeze caressed my face.

"Do you think it will end soon?" asked Ereglin.

I looked carefully at the sky. "I can't always tell, Ereglin. The clouds are low and the air is cool. This may burn off by noon or we may have a day of rain."

"Just my luck," grumbled Ereglin, "My first Midsummer in years and it rains."

I smiled and looked again at the sky, "Rain or shine, it's still a day for celebration. At least that's what my aunt would say."

Dressing for midsummer was a pleasure. In keeping with the simplicity of the occasion I had a new tunic of sage green with graceful tailoring and a minimum of dark green embroidery. The leggings were of a dark green and there were new soft boots of deep brown. I wore my hair unadorned, but Ereglin was becoming quite proficient in setting tidy braids that would hold for the duration of the day. It took nearly an hour before I was fully dressed and ready to go. Ereglin was dressed in the style of the village with a finely woven broadcloth shirt and trousers to match. At the last minute I took the little red rock and placed it in my pocket.

When we got to the bridge the rain had stopped and the sky was beginning to clear. I was pleased to discover that Aegiriel and Boronel were both waiting for us. They were also dressed in the style of the village, but of a much finer cloth that moved gracefully as they walked. We joined a growing crowd of holiday goers as they made their way to the upper clearing. There was much laughter and talking amongst friends.

"I hardly think it fair," I said at one point, "that you all get to dress in the way of the village while I am dressed like a Sinda of the keep."

Boronel laughed, "You are a Sinda, well, halfways anyways, Legolas. If you don't feel like one, at least for today you must play the part. You are Aran Nelyar until dawn of tomorrow. You are taking your father's place as king for the evening. At the upper clearing your word will be law. Eh, you could order honey cakes for everyone and it would be done!" Everyone laughed, but I was worried.

"I thought all I needed to do was to sing for tonight. I don't know anything about how to be king, Boronel. What if I do something wrong?"

"Don't worry, little one. These events have followed the same order for centuries. You will be afforded great respect for a very little bit of work. The contests are run by those who take part in them and the dances are led by the masters. Your task is simply to sing and celebrate."

By the time we got to the clearing the festivities had already spilled out into the mossy meadow. Great boards on trestles had been set along the perimeter and Heledirn and his kitchen folk were already busy at work preparing a midday spread. High in the trees I could hear two groups of elves having an impromptu contest improvising songs about rain on Midsummer's Eve. The idea with each turn was to make the song more melodic or more harmonically complex and to change the words to match.

Near the center of the clearing the footraces had already begun. At first it looked like all the contestants were Silvan, but on closer inspection many Sindar had taken the day to dress as villagers. I recognized Eluvorn and Dolnor clad in nothing but breeches. They stood with three Silvans, poised and ready for the sprint which soon commenced with the strike of a drum. Stride for stride they ran the length of the clearing. At first it looked like a Silvan might win, but in the last moment Dolnor pushed ahead and came in first. There was a great deal of cheering and laughter. He won a garland of woodland flowers for his efforts which he would wear for the rest of the celebration.

"Well, where to first, my lord?" asked Ereglin. His parents had moved on to mingle while I was watching the race and we stood alone at the edge of the clearing. "I see your trader friend has set up shop over there," he said, pointing with his chin. "Shall we go and see what he has brought?"

Taenor had spread out a brightly colored blanket beneath the boughs of a great white pine. He was sitting cross legged on the blanket and was surrounded with a variety of little items. There was a bundle of shiny ribbons, a collection of small glass vials, a few wooden boxes and some simple wooden flutes. At the back of the blanket were three brown bottles, presumably of elderberry wine. He stood as he saw me coming across the clearing.

"Legolas!" he cried, "I am so happy that you have come. I nearly thought that we would be awash in rain all day, but the sun is shining. Beautiful day for festivities, is it not? Ereglin, it is good to see you too! Now, Legolas, what interests you today, and what do you have for trade?"

"I don't wish to trade anything today, Taenor, but I am wondering if you are still willing to carry something to my family?" I pulled out the little rock. "Could you give this to Brethilas and tell him to set it under the water to see how it shines? Could you tell my aunt and uncle that I miss them both and will try to come home as soon as I can?"

Taenor sobered for a moment, "Well, Legolas, I would be honored to carry your gift to the village, and your message besides. Why I was just thinking last night how good it will be to see your uncle again. Not many as good at carving as he is, and I've got a couple of pieces that need his touch. Why just the other day – " at this point he stopped, because a somber looking figure had stepped forward. "Arthdel," he said quickly, "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same, Taenor. How is it that you are visiting us this Midsummer's Eve?" There was no humor in Arthdel's voice.

"Why the celebration is open to all. Besides, I have business with the king. I found some elderberry wine that I would like for him to sample."

Arthdel looked over the blanket, examining the goods. "You will have a hard time trading with the king as he is not in residence just now. Is that the wine there?"

Taenor nodded.

"You know better than to bring Men's wine to midsummer Taenor. Put it away."

"I will display what I please, Arthdel. The wine is doing no harm sealed in those bottles. I answer only to the king, and as he is not here, I will follow my own counsel. Now if you will excuse me?" He bowed deeply to Arthdel and turned again to me. Arthdel glowered for a moment then walked away.

"What turned his heart?" asked Ereglin after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

"Well, last year I was involved in helping his sister find true love with someone that her family did not approve of." Taenor sighed, "I still think it would have worked out well, but for one or two little details. Didn't get to more than half day away from the keep."

"You helped someone run away to get married?" I asked.

"Well, not intentionally, I mean that is part ways right. Serondol convinced me that they were destined to be together. I made arrangements and enticed the maiden to come with me. I didn't realize that she really didn't want to marry Serondol. Actually she didn't like him very well either. She wasn't very pleased when she found out what I was up to. Her family wasn't pleased either." Taenor shrugged, "I'd like it to be water under the bridge, but, perhaps with time." He smiled, "Now where were we?"

I grinned. It was good to see Taenor again. I told him my message and reminded him to give the rock to Brethilas. Then Ereglin and I went on our way to sample more of the day's festivities.

After the clouds parted, the sky turned a brilliant, cloudless blue. The rain had cooled the air so the day was warm but not hot. Brethilas and I spent most of the afternoon visiting and watching any number of contests as they played out in the clearing. After the running events were contests of the blade. There were wrestling events and contests that involved throwing javelins and small sacks weighted with rocks. There was plenty of archery and several contests of the bow. Through this all was an abundance of food and drink brought both from the keep and from some of the village fires nearby. At first I was discomfited by the special treatment I received wherever we went, but in time I came to appreciate the fact that I was given the best vantage point for most of the events. As my _meldir_, Ereglin also got special treatment, a fact that he enjoyed immensely.

I did not see Gaelin until the afternoon was drawing to a close. She was at one of the bow events. She was smaller than many of the other _tauron_ she stood with. In fact she was the only woman among them. From a distance her bow seemed shorter and less powerful. The target they were aiming for was a weighted feathered ball launched into the air by a simple lever system. Each_ tauron_ had three tries to hit the target. After the first round, the field was narrowed from twelve to six. A new, smaller ball was launched for the second round. Again, Gaelin stood her ground. By the third round, the bow contest was the only contest on the field and the crowd of observers was large.

Gaelin was third in the final round and she did beautifully. Two of the targets were hit directly and the third was well deflected from its course. The crowd roared its approval. She bowed and gaily walked to where the judges stood. One of the judges took a garland of flowers from a small table where it had been placed and started to put it on Gaelin's head. She shook her head and reached up to grasp the garland. She spoke with the judge seriously for a moment, then walked over to where I was standing. Her eyes were sparkling and there was a grin on her face.

"I convinced the judges that there is one who needs this more than I do," she said. She placed the garland on my head. "We can't have an Aran Nelyar without a proper crown, can we?

"They intend to crown you this evening, but perhaps you can wear this for the day. Happy Midsummer, Legolas. I am glad that you are here." She bent over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I felt a great wave of shyness, but I was pleased with the gift. Evidently everyone else was pleased, too, since there was a great cheering and laughing from the crowd.

Eventually I grew tired of walking and watching. Just as I was going to ask Ereglin if we could climb in the canopy for awhile, the drums began calling everyone to a bonfire that had been set at the end of the clearing for the opening ceremony of Midsummer's Eve. Once we had all collected, the drums rolled to a stop. The silence after a long day of merrymaking was welcome and refreshing. I looked above the trees which were already touched by the darkening of the day. The sun had begun a leisurely descent towards the horizon and the sky had taken on a warm and tawny hue. The birds were singing the evening song. The smell of wood smoke hung in the air, almost masking the smell of sun warmed vegetation and the savory odors from the cooking fires at the side of the clearing.

While we waited for the silence to come, I could see several people shifting about to calm themselves. When all was still, the silence stood for a long moment, and then was gently broken by the sound of six elves pulling a huge vat on a sledge towards the assembly. We had a similar vat in our village, although it was much smaller. I knew that the brew in the vat would be heated over the course of the evening and we would drink from it several times. As the _malengalas _heated, the yellow hemp in the mixture released more and more of its tincture and potency into the water, until by midnight the brew provided a powerful boost to the senses. Dancing, leaping, and running the canopy with _malengalas _was invigorating. It did not compromise the body, but heightened the senses, bringing a sensation of euphoria and an almost feral joy.

Knowing that the silence must not be broken until the singing commenced, I took Gaelin's garland from my head and handed it to Ereglin. Then I stepped forward to receive my crown for the evening from a slender maiden with elegant hands. The crown was simple, made of summer vines with woodland flowers woven in. After the crown was settled on my head, there was the soft shuffling as the entire assembly bowed towards me. For a brief moment I wanted to hide my face in shyness, but in the end I squared my shoulders and tried to smile.

As the people rose, I stepped back and waited while the maiden took a dipper and poured some of the _malengalas_ into a large goblet carved from wood. She set the dipper down and brought the goblet to me, carrying it with both hands. I took the goblet with two hands and then drank deeply of the drought. The bitterness of the drink made me wrinkle my nose, but I finished the drink and did not make a sound. I handed the goblet back to the maiden, then looked for Ereglin. I wasn't sure where I was to go to sing.

Ereglin stepped forward, and when the crowd parted, he led me to the edge of the clearing where a great oak waited. I smiled at Ereglin, then began to climb. I continued to climb as the rest of the people partook of the _malengalas_. After they drank, they faded into the forest.

I waited for the better part of an hour as the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the mantle of night was drawn across the sky. During that time not a sound was heard from the elves waiting in the woods. When the first star emerged in the east I closed my eyes and began my breathing. One with the sky. _Listen_. One with the woods. _Listen._ One with the life giving soil. _Listen._ One with the air and the wind and the water. _Listen. _I breathed in the warmth of the day and the beauty of the season and I breathed out all that was not of the song. Finally, after the first dozen stars began to shine I lifted my heart to the skies and began to sing. I cast my voice like a net of starlight across the meadow, sweet and clear and clean. I let my melody resonate with the Song, wrapping the shadows in music, letting the notes float up and beyond the reach of the dark trees that ringed the clearing.

There were not words for the song that I sang, but the intentions were light and well balanced. At first I was worried that no one would sing with me, but soon two voices answered me from across the way. As they sang, they emerged into the clearing and began to dance. Soon other voices joined them. By ones and twos more and more elves emerged from the shadows of the woods to come and sing.

This dance was the _Echui_, the awakening. It was a slow dance, like the opening of a blossom in the spring. I sang until my voice could sing no more, but by then the clearing was filled with elves singing and moving with an easy and measured grace. I had been part of many such dances in my young life, but never had I seen it from such a vantage point. The clearing was illuminated not only by the stars, but also by a bright moon, just short of full, that bathed the dancers in a grey blue light. I was mesmerized by the movement as well as the melodies and harmonies that wafted up to my perch in the oak and I smiled from my heart with the joy of it all.

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A happy chapter, posted for your enjoyment! Writing is getting easier as this goes on. I hope that the quality remains good and that story continues to engage. Thanks for your support and interest. Please drop me a note if you can.


	16. Chapter 17

As the Song of Awakening drew to a close I descended and once again partook of the _malengalas_. It was already much stronger and the bitterness was pronounced. I managed to get through the second goblet without stopping, but I could feel a tingling lightheadedness set in as I handed back the chalice. The dancers crowded around me, touching my shoulders and arms gently with murmurs of praise and thanks. I was confused at first, but then I realized that my singing must have gone well, so I smiled and laughed and returned the touches as I could.

A maiden dressed in a simple green shift extended her hands to me in greeting. When I grasped her hands she smiled and pulled me away from the crowd. She led me to an intricately carved chair set on a small dais with a table beside it. Another maiden brought me a tray with a large glass of cold juice and an assortment of small pastries. I climbed into the chair and drank deeply of the juice. It was much more refreshing than the _malengalas_ had been. The pastries were light and filled with dried fruits and nuts. I found that I was quite hungry from my singing and I ate them eagerly.

As soon as the serving of the _malengalas_ was concluded, the drums began their song, and the dances of the evening began.

How can I begin to describe the dances of Midsummer's Eve? At the outset of the evening the dances are tame, often relegated to the dancing of the artisans of movement who spend long hours training so that their bodies convey every nuance and emotional overtone with precise placement of legs and arms, fingers and toes and even eyes and eyebrows. Their movements portray stories and parodies that are conveyed without words. They dance to the drum and sometimes to the clapping and singing of the people. Some of the stories they tell are sad and sobering, but most of the Midsummer dances are light and humorous. Often that evening our laughter echoed to the stars.

The later dances, those after midnight, are danced by the people. They are wild dances singing with our bodies beneath the silver gray light of the moon. To the uninitiated they seem to have no order, but ebb and flow like the waters of a stream, with sporadic displays of leaping and twirling and twisting and moving. The _malengalas_ makes the Song easier to hear and we dance between the rhythms of the drum and the beating of our hearts, with the whispers of the Song welling through every fiber of our body. I did not stay seated during these dances, but threw myself into the music, becoming lost in the power of the dance, and the thrumming of the life all around me.

It seemed like forever, or like no time at all, when one of the last dances drew to a close. I was sweating and breathless, yet totally centered and joyful. Over my own heavy breathing I could hear the cadence of a hundred conversations resuming. "Ereglin!" I called, as his familiar form came towards me, "How goes it?"

His face was glowing from the exertion and several rivulets of sweat glistened on his brow. "Ai, Legolas, that was a fine dance!"

While I had been dancing, someone had refilled my glass and set out a couple of meat pies on the table. Gratefully I drank half of the cool liquid and gave the rest to Ereglin. We sat on the edge of the dais and ate the pies. Just as we were finishing I saw Talagand approaching. He was dressed as a Sindar in an outfit of pale gray. I could tell that he had been dancing. He grinned at me, his eyes twinkling.

"Master Legolas," he said, "I am delighted to find you at last. Your singing was beautiful. Did you hear the silence that welcomed your song? People were amazed, just amazed." He bowed deeply and grasped my hand with both of his. "Wonderful, simply wonderful."

If he had more kind things to say, they were deferred by a sudden commotion at one end of the clearing. Swiftly I climbed to stand upon the seat of the chair, trying to get a good look. A group of elves were standing beneath the boughs of one of the great oak trees. They were looking up as though someone was in the branches.

"What's going on?" asked Ereglin from his place on the ground.

"I can't tell." I jumped down from my perch and made my way towards the tree. Talagand and Ereglin followed. We couldn't get too close, the crowd was too thick, but in the moonlight I could see the silhouette of an elf standing high in the branches of the Leaping Oak. His right hand was free, but in his left I could see the dark outline of a bottle.

"The fool!" exclaimed Talagand behind me. "If he's been mixing _malengalas _and wine he's risking his neck to be up there. What does he think he's doing?"

A dark form stepped forward from the crowd. It was Ethoron, captain of one of the companies. "Easy there," he called up to the figure. "What's your name?"

"I'm Cumarad," said the elf. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I just wanted to celebrate a little bit. I had a good time dancing, and now I want to try the Leaping." He grasped an overhanging branch with his free hand and swayed a little as he spoke.

While he talked, Ethoron quietly indicated to two of his men that they should climb the oak as quickly as possible. "You're drunk!" he called up to Cumarad when the soldiers had been dispatched. "Come down and we will talk things over. It's not safe to be up there in your condition."

"I'm fine," insisted Cumarad. "Here, catch this. I need my hands free for jumping." He tossed the bottle down into the waiting crowd. It was empty. "I know I can do this." Suddenly, in one smooth motion, Cumarad turned, took three running steps and launched himself into space.

There was a collective gasp from the people and, after a moment while all time stood still, there was a thud as his fall was slowed by a branch further down. He cried out and then came the sound of a soft body hitting the ground. The crowd stood in stunned silence.

"Get a healer!" cried Ethoron after a moment, and he swore under his breath, "Where the hell did he get the wine from? It is forbidden at the Midsummer celebration!"

"I know," came a voice from among the people. It was Arthdel. "Taenor the trader had it set out this afternoon. I told him to put it away, but he wouldn't listen."

An angry murmur went up from the crowd. I strained to see three healers making their way to the crumpled figure on the ground.

"Things could get ugly here," said Talagand to Ereglin. "Take Legolas back to the keep and wait there."

"I want to stay!" I said to Ereglin as he reached for my hand.

"Come with me, Legolas," said Ereglin, without a trace of humor in his voice, "It falls to me to protect you. The _malengalas _will make emotions run high. I'll take you back to the keep."

"And I will not go!" I exclaimed. "I'm the prince here. I shouldn't run away."

Ereglin wrapped a long arm around my shoulders and guided me firmly away from the crowd. "I can't drag you all the way to the Halls, you're right," he conceded. "At least come and wait in the clearing. We'll see how it goes."

When we got to the dais there was no one around. Everyone, it seemed, had gone to find out what was happening at the tree. I climbed up and stood on the seat of the chair, but it was too dark to see very far. Anxiously, I sat down in frustration. I had no idea whether Cumarad was alive or dead. I was worried about Taenor. He had broken an important rule. I was sure that people would be angry with him.

Finally, I waited for a moment when Ereglin was turned away. I jumped down from the chair and began running back towards the tree. My father had told me that I could go wherever I wished, and for some reason I knew that the right place for me to be was with the people.

Ereglin ran after me, but I knew I could run faster. My feet hit the soft ground in a rapid rhythm. I did not swerve to the left or the right but sprinted as quickly as I could to where the crowd was gathered. I could sense the troubled spirit of the people before I arrived. Ereglin was right, the _malengalas_ heightened the emotions as well as the senses. For celebrations, it made the joy indescribable, but things were sure to turn ugly if Cumarad had died.

I wormed my way through the crowd as quickly as I could, until I stood before the Leaping Oak. Quickly, I scrambled into the tree and walked out on one of the lower branches. As I caught my breath I looked down towards Cumarad. Three healers knelt beside him. "Does he live?" I cried out, "Does he live?" but the sounds of the people drowned me out. I looked down at Cumarad again. One of the healers carefully straightened Cumarad's arm. They spoke quietly among themselves. I was frustrated that I could not be heard.

"I have him!" someone shouted, "I have Taenor!" There was a low rumble that came from the crowd. "What shall we do with him?" The rumbling began again.

I was upset. I was the prince. They were supposed to listen to me. If they wouldn't listen to my words, perhaps they would hear me in other ways. Remembering what Talagand had taught me about projection, I took a deep breath and sang the loudest, strongest high note that I could muster. It wasn't very sophisticated, but it worked. The people were taken by surprise and their grumbling stopped.

"I am your prince," I said loudly, and I stamped my foot for emphasis, "and furthermore, I am _Aran Nelyar_ of this celebration. Stop your growling! Bring Taenor to me, and let me talk to one of the healers." I crossed my arms over my chest. Taenor was brought forward, held by several men. He looked terrified. One of the healers disengaged themselves from helping Cumarad and came to stand below me.

"How is he?" I asked the healer.

The healer bowed before he spoke, "I don't know how it is, but he lives," he said. "He has regained consciousness, but he may well have injuries that we cannot see."

"Find Ethoron," I said, "He can help you with what you need." The healer bowed and left.

Before the crowd could start grumbling again, I called out, "Cumarad lives, so you can be happy about that. Now be quiet so I can talk to Taenor." The murmuring stopped, which surprised me. I sat down on the branch to get closer to Taenor. I used the same words that Nador would have used with me. "Talk to me Taenor. Tell me what is on your heart."

Taenor rubbed his fingers nervously before he replied, "I don't really know, Legolas. Cumarad came by and offered to trade me two pan flutes for a bottle of elderberry wine. They were well crafted instruments, he played them both for me and they sounded just fine. I thought it was a fair trade. I was mindful of what Arthdel had said, so I told him not to open the wine until after the festival. He promised me he would keep it closed, Legolas, he promised me he would."

"Didn't Arthdel tell you to put the bottles away?" I asked. "Isn't there a rule about bringing wine to Midsummer?"

Taenor nodded his head. "I know all that, but I was annoyed with Arthdel. He's still mad about that business with his sister. I didn't want to listen to him."

I thought of my father. "Do you know what you did was wrong?"  
Taenor shrugged, and nodded again.

I chewed on my lower lip for a moment. If the king were here he would name a consequence. I knew that when I misbehaved at home, Nador would insist I stay by the fire for a few days helping Nathel with her cooking. Something needed to be said quickly before the grumbling started again. I stood up on the branch again and crossed my arms over my chest to make myself seem bigger. I tried to speak in a strong voice that would carry to the back of the crowd. "Listen to me. Taenor did something wrong here, but so did Cumarad. Taenor should not have brought wine to the celebration, but Cumarad should not have opened the bottle." I paused, "I think the best thing for Taenor to do is to go with Cumarad and see if he can help him. This is his punishment. Until Cumarad is well, Taenor will stay in the Halls, helping in the kitchen and visiting Cumarad as much as he can." I paused again, feeling the eyes of everyone upon me. Frantically I cast about for something else to say. "I want everybody to go back to the clearing." I said at last. "We have time for one more dance before dawn. I am the Aran Nelyar of this celebration and you must do as I say."

I gazed into as many eyes as I could. Whether it was the effect of the _malengalas_ or the truth of the moment, I could not say, but during the silence that ensued as I looked upon the people, a feeling of profound love swept over me. These were my people and I was their prince. My gaze did not waver as by ones and twos the people began departing for the clearing. After a few moments I could hear the drums beginning in the distance. At last there were only a few in the clearing. The healers were carefully transferring Cumarad to a hastily constructed litter. Ethoron and four of his guards were helping. Talagand was there, and Ereglin. Taenor remained. He sat on the ground with his hands covering his face. Finally I climbed down from my perch in the tree. I put my hand on Taenor's shoulder.

"I am sorry, Legolas. I'm so sorry."

"So am I," I said. At that moment I realized that my little rock wouldn't get to Brethilas any time soon.

"Go now with the healers and see if you can help." I said. Taenor nodded and slowly got to his feet. I turned only to come face to face with Ereglin. He was looking at me in stupefied amazement.

"What?" I demanded, discomfited by his gaze.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Legolas. You sounded just like your father."

For some reason, with the tensions of the moment spent, I felt like laughing. "Thank you, Ereglin." I grinned. I knew that I had followed my father's bidding to do the right thing. I think I surprised a lot of people, including myself. I set my shoulders back and lifted my chin.

"Let's go and dance, Ereglin." I said. I took a deep breath. "Just one more dance before dawn."

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The following day promised to be a leisurely one. Ereglin did not stir at all through my morning song. Even after I had dressed and brushed out my hair, he was not awake. Finally I left the room on my own and made my way to the kitchen. I decided to do without footwear and my bare feet made no sound on the stone floors.

The corridors I transversed were empty and silent. The kitchen, usually filled with the bustling activity of many workers, looked large and empty in the morning light. Hilidern was there, as was Taenor. It seemed that there had been no delay in putting Taenor to work. He was still dressed in his travelling clothes. He was almost lost behind a bundle of firewood that he was carrying across the kitchen to set by the fire, but I could hear his voice as cheerful as ever.

"That should about do it, don't you think, Heledirn? I suppose I could bring more in for you, but I can't imagine you'd need any more than this, at least not right away. Though if you do need more, you just feel free to ask. I'm here to help you after all." There was a clatter as the wood spilled from Taenor's arms onto the floor. Taenor hastily bent to scoop the pieces up and place them properly in the wood box.

Heledirn looked up from where he was working on preparing a breakfast tray and noticed that I'd entered the room. "Ah, Master Legolas," he said with just a trace of ire in his voice. "I understand that you are to thank for my latest worker. It is fortunate that we are past the rush of Midsummer, for I think that training Taenor may prove to be quite time consuming."

I paused and approached Heledirn carefully. "I didn't mean to cause a problem-" I began.

Heledirn looked at me soberly, and spoke in a low tone, "I have you to thank for getting Ereglin out of the kitchen, young prince, so I am in your debt. This rascal is willing enough, but he has more words than thoughts by far. My ears are tired, and we aren't yet to the half point of the morning!" He turned and raised his voice, "Enough wood then, Taenor. Come and take this tray to your charge. Legolas, they have Cumarad housed in the healing ward. Would you be so kind as to show him the way? I'll have your breakfast prepared for you when you return."

I smiled and nodded, relieved at being let off so easily. I hadn't considered that sending Taenor to the kitchens would mean more work for Heldirn. It made me wonder if I'd created more work for Nathel when I'd been assigned to help her as punishment.

"Why Legolas, you look fine this morning," said Taenor as he reached for the tray. "Just show me where to go and I'll follow. Can you get the door there? That's a help. So sorry about last night. Cumarad seemed like a reasonable fellow. I hope he's not the sort to hold a grudge. The sooner this can be water under the bridge the better."

Taenor continued talking as we crossed the yard and made our way to the stairs that led to the upper terrace. I had never been to the healing rooms before, but I had seen the low building nestled against the mountainside at the back of the upper terrace. The front of the healing rooms was actually a wide veranda with large enclosures at each end. Within one room was a sturdy table and several cupboards, well stocked for the healers. That was where the warriors often went to be treated for the wounds that were an inevitable part of rigorous practice.

The other large room was divided into several smaller rooms for convalescing. They had big windows with heavy shutters that could be closed in the winter. During warm weather these shutters were open wide to admit the sun and fresh air that are so essential for good healing. A blue clad healer emerged from the doorway of one of these rooms as we approached. I recognized him as the healer I had spoken to under the Leaping Oak. When he saw us, the healer placed his hand over his heart and bowed deeply. I was a little surprised at the formality of his salutation.

"Good morning, Prince Legolas," he said. He nodded solemnly at Taenor. "Cumarad survived his bout with foolishness. There may be bones broken, but at least we know that he's not bleeding internally. I see that you've brought him some breakfast."

"How can you be sure he's not bleeding?" asked Taenor worriedly,

"Because he's not dead," snapped the healer, "Now, if you will excuse me."

I followed Taenor into the room. He put the tray down on a small bedside table and looked cautiously at the form on the bed. Cumarad was lying on his back with his left leg propped up by several pillows. His left arm was in a sling and his right arm was draped across his face.

"Forgive me for not rising to greet you," came a soft lilting voice from the bed, "but I've got a hell of a headache and there is far too much light in this room if you ask me."

"Do you know who it is that's come to visit you?" asked Taenor.

Cumarad sniffed the air. "Breakfast, I suppose. But I'm not hungry. Could you just close the shutters and go away. . . quietly?" he asked. "That wine was much stronger than I thought and - damn, I hurt all over!"

"Do you have any memory of what happened?" I asked.

"Why must you greet me with a barrage of questions?" said Cumarad, quite annoyed. He moved his arm away from his face and looked at me. Even with his two swollen black eyes I could see the surprise on his face when he saw me. "Sweet Eru, the prince!" he exclaimed. He closed his eyes, "Damn, damn, damn, I'm in for it now."

I looked at him and had to surpress the desire to giggle. Cumarad looked young and naive with his dark brown hair tousled and spread across the pillow. His discomfit and angst reminded me of Brethilas when he got caught in some mischief. I was about to tease him a bit for his awkward attitude, but Taenor spoke first.

"Hey now, Cumarad, don't you talk like that. It's your own misfortune you've brought on yourself. What came over you to make you drink that wine during Midsummer? It's put you in a pile of trouble, and me besides. If you've got a hangover well, all I can say is that you deserve every bit of it."

Cumarad pressed one ear with his free hand. "I know I deserve to be yelled at," he said slowly in a hushed voice, "but could you do it more quietly, please?" He looked at me again. "You are the Laegrem Prince, are you not? My mother would have my hide if she found out how ill mannered I am. Please forgive me."

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. "You've got good cause to be upset, I suppose. You still haven't answered Taenor's question. Why did you drink the wine?"

Cumarad's grey eyes peered at me from between swollen lids. "I actually thought it might improve my ability to do the Leap," he said. He licked his lips, "I'm a gatherer by trade and a dancer by tradition. We don't have the Leap in our village, but I've been practicing in the trees near our village." He paused for a moment, to gather his thoughts. "It's all in the focus, the balance and being right with the Song. I've known about the Leap for a long time. This year I thought I'd give it a try."

"And how does the elderberry wine fit into your scheme? Not very well, eh?" said Taenor. His annoyance was evident.

Cumarad looked at him and sighed. "I knew that the _malengalas_ would help me to hear the Song. I was curious to find out if the wine would add to the effect. I was going to wait to open the bottle like I promised, but then I realized that the _malengalas_ would only be available for me to try on Midsummer's Eve and I wanted to try the two together."

A warm summer breeze spilled through the room. In the distance I could hear a flock of finches chirping a midday song. The breeze blew a corner of Cumarad's blanket back and forth. He shifted uncomfortably on his back.

"Well, that explains it, but it was foolish thinking." said Taenor at last, "Now, as to that fall, how bad off are you anyways? I'm here until you mend, you know, so don't hide the worst from me. I'm assigned to take care of you and that's what I intend to do."

Cumarad raised his eyebrows, "You are to tend to me? Why? I was the one who was stupid enough to open the bottle."

"And I was the one who gave it to you in the first place. By order of the Prince I'm to care for you, so out with it," said Taenor, "and don't be evasive. Your face has been handsomer in the past by a long shot, but what else are you hiding under that blanket?"

Cumarad grabbed the edge of the blanket protectively. "Well, I cracked a couple of ribs when I hit that first branch. My wrist is swollen and my leg might be broken. The bump on my forehead should go down after a bit. Although actually, the most painful thing is inside my head. I've never had a hangover before."

"Eh, you've lived a clean life, I suppose, Cumarad. Men make the best wine, but I could tell you stories of the aftereffects of their brews. Why just last summer I was lucky enough to sample a wicked brew that gave me a hangover for nearly three days."

I didn't stay to hear the end of Taenor's story. I knew from experience that they could go on for quite some time. I left the room and crossed the training grounds which were empty, save for two guards who were making their way purposefully towards the healing house. I nodded a greeting as I passed them and then made my way back to the kitchen for breakfast. 

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Well, this was a bit more of a beast to write than some of the other chapters. Hopefully the frayed edges don't show too much in the final read. Did you have fun with this? Let me know. I thrive on feedback, good or bad.


	17. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18**_

_Thwack! _The sound of an arrow hitting the target echoed through the clearing. Ereglin lowered his bow, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. "I've hit the target five out of six times, Legolas. Now it's your turn."

"I should have left you sleeping in bed this morning." I grumbled halfheartedly, as Ereglin walked over to retrieve his arrows. Ereglin had met me at the breakfast table after I had delivered Taenor to the healing house. He had persuaded me to spend my Midsummer day off from lessons at the bow range. At first I was happy to comply, but his zeal for the bow grew as the session progressed, while my own interest abated. Part of the problem was that the day itself was much better suited to singing and wandering than working on my bow skills, and, although I hated to admit it, part of the problem was that Ereglin was proving to be much better at the bow that I was. I tried not to get discouraged, but he was regularly pulling his arrows out of the hay, while I was almost always picking mine up off the ground.

Gaelin had been an excellent teacher, but there were so many small steps to remember in order to get the bow to deliver the arrow to the target. During our lessons she had drilled us on how to stand, how to hold the bow, how to move, where to look, how to draw as well as the finer points of making a clean release. I found myself tense and confused just trying to make sense of it all.

Ereglin brought his arrows back behind the line, and I prepared for another attempt at shooting. I had my first arrow nocked and partially drawn when I heard voices approaching the clearing. Relieved, I eased the tension off the string, and turned to greet the newcomers.

"Greetings, _Aran Nelyar!" _called Gaelin as she walked into the clearing. She was with Gwion, one of the tauron who had competed against her in the contest.

I grinned and nodded in greeting. "The _Aran Nelyar_ welcomes the best bow of the forest, and her escort," I replied loftily. "Will you please favor us with a sampling of your skill?"

Gaelin laughed, but she quickly strung her bow and smoothly shot three arrows into the center of the target.

"You know, both of you are standing too far back to shoot well. You are trying to do too much too quickly!" said Gaelin, lowering her bow. She lifted a couple of arrows from my quiver. "Yep. Dirt on the fletching. We will move up your target a bit closer until you've had more practice."

"Eregin is still better than I am," I mumbled.

"He's got a stronger bow, because he is older," said Gaelin kindly, "but you will soon catch up to him, you'll see."

Suddenly I felt better.

"Have you been working all day?" I asked as Gaelin went to retrieve her arrows.

She shook her head. "Gwion and I were up provisioning our packs at the kitchen earlier today."

"Did you see Taenor there?" I asked, "He should either be there or with Cumarad. Heledirn was happy with his work, but not with his talking."

Gaelin sobered and came to stand before me. "I may as well be the one to tell you, Legolas. Amondorn has had Taenor arrested and will hold him until King Thranduil returns. He says he was remiss in letting you serve as _Aran Nelyar_, and feels that Taenor put the lives of elves at risk with his behavior."

I looked at her in surprise. I thought of the guards I had passed in the yard that morning.

Ereglin stepped up behind me, "Amondorn can't give Taenor a new punishment" he said, "Legolas was the appointed _Aran Nelyar_ for midsummer. We follow his lead. Taenor has already been judged and given his consequence. Amondorn can't change that."

Gaelin shrugged, "I would agree with you, Ereglin, but Amondorn didn't see it that way."

Ereglin scowled, "Legolas did a fine job of handling the situation. What's wrong with Amondorn?"

"He's Sindarin, Ereglin," said Gaelin, "You don't have to understand him. He's our leader while King Thranduil is away. You shouldn't question the acts of our leader."

"But Legolas was leader for the Midsummer!"

Gaelin retrieved her arrows in silence. "Breathe deep, little brother," she said at last. "What's done is done."

Nothing more was said on the matter until we were back at Aegiriel's fire. We sat on logs around the fire, enjoying the lazy sun of the late afternoon, moving occasionally to avoid the wood smoke that seemed to blow first one way then the other. Gaelin had shot and butchered a large coney that Aegiriel had roasting on a spit. We had also gathered greens and berries to make a light salad. I looked forward to eating with Ereglin's family. They often had lively conversations around the fire and more than once Ereglin and I had to find our way back to the keep by moonlight when the after dinner conversation had extended past the setting of the sun. I could think of no better place to enjoy the leisurely hours of a midsummer evening.

My thoughts were interrupted when Boronel burst into the clearing. I still had to remind myself not to be frightened by his stern affect, but on this evening he looked positively furious. He did not wait for his wife to greet him, but sat heavily down on one of the logs and began pulling his boots from his feet.

"Aegiriel, we have been at this place too long. It is time to move back to the village where a man can walk with his feet free."

Aegiriel was used to her husband's blustering. She carefully finished brushing the roasting coney with seasoned oil before she responded in a quiet voice, "What has happened this time, Boronel? Let me put down the basting bowl and you'll have my full attention." She set the bowl and brush aside and wiped her hands on her dress before reaching out and taking Boronel's hands. "Tell me what is on your heart, husband," she said. "Tell me and I will listen."

Boronel pulled his hands away and rubbed them on his knees. "I don't know where to begin," he said. "Tell me, Aegiriel who is the leader of the Midsummer Eve?"

"Why Thranduil is most often leader, although this year Amondorn gave the authority of the evening to Legolas."

"And tell me during the celebration are we not bound to do the will of the _Aran Nelyar_? What good is a leader if you do not follow his will?"

"To follow the will of the leader is a most solemn duty," said Aegiriel. Her confusion and concern was clear to see. I sucked on my lower lip and watched Boronel intently.

"You know this, dear wife. I know this. Even the little children know to do the will of the leader is right. It's the solemn oath. It's why when Thranduil says to fish we fish, and when he says to fight we fight, and when he calls us from the villages we come. If Amondorn wanted to be the leader of the Midsummer, then he should have come and served, but he did not and now he is trying to claim leadership where he should not. Legolas is the _Aran Nelyar_ of Midsummer this year. Legolas pronounced sentence on Taenor during Midsummer. His sentence should stand. Amondorn would have it another way."

"Boronel," cried Aegiriel, grasping his hands firmly, "You are talking in circles. What has happened that has made you so upset?"

Boronel took a deep breath. "Amondorn has had Taenor put into the dungeon for bringing wine to Midsummer. This goes against Legolas' command. He has stolen Legolas' leadership."

Aegiriel's eyes grew wide, "Oh, Boronel. Why would he do that? He must know better than to usurp the will of the _Aran Nelyar_. And what about poor Taenor? Thranduil would never put a Laegel in the dungeons."

"What does it mean?" I asked, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, you have not," said Boronel emphatically.

"The name _Aran Nelyar_ speaks of the king of Enil's people," said Aegiriel gently, "Only an Avari could tell you the name in its original language. The title itself goes back to the Awakening and is given in remembrance of Lenwe, our king. It is a name of great power, not a trivial platitude."

I sucked air between my teeth, "Eh, I had no idea I was carrying such an honor."

"It's no secret amongst the Laegrim," said Bornonel with a shrug. "Oropher knew, of course, and so does Thranduil, but Amondorn?" he rolled his eyes.

"It was probably good that Amondorn gave you the title instead of keeping it for himself," said Boronel, "I can't imagine him partaking of the _malengalas_ without making a sound." He wrinkled his nose and put his hand to his throat, "Ai! Ai!, who put horse piss in the brew?" We all laughed, although Aegiriel tried to show her disapproval.

"Where is this place that Amondorn sent Taenor to?" I asked. "What is a dungeon?"

Ereglin looked at me grimly. "Do you remember where your father found you when you first arrived here?" I nodded. "The room with the water gates is very near a row of small store rooms. Thranduil calls them "the dungeons" after some rooms in his father's keep." He shrugged, "Maybe the Sindar keep prisoners in such places. I think it is a poor place to house a wood elf."

"Why would Amondorn make Taenor go to such a place?" The thought of Taenor in a small room deep underground reminded me of my own fears and made me tense with worry.

"He says that Taenor needs to be punished. He brought wine to the Midsummer and that is a very serious offence. Cumarad almost died."

"But he didn't die," I said. The joy of the evening was gone. "I need to find Amondorn and tell him that Taenor shouldn't be put in a dungeon."

"Stay here and eat something first, Legolas," said Aegliriel, "Problems are best solved with a full stomach. I'll send Gaelin with you when you return to the keep. The three of you can see what is going on when you get there."

With more coaxing I swallowed a little bit of food, but I was anxious to go. I knew that if I talked to Amondorn he would see things my way. I just had to explain to him that Taenor would be frightened by the weight and the darkness of the deep caves.

The three of us arrived at the keep as the evening light began. I sensed the feeling of unrest before we had even finished crossing the bridge. To the outer eye all was calm, but for an evening that should have been filled with people out enjoying the warmth and delight of the day, there were very few about.

Those that were out walked with their faces closed and their shoulders drawn. When we got to the yard it was almost empty. I made a beeline for the kitchen, but before I got halfway there, someone had called out, "Look, the Prince!" and I found myself surrounded by a group of Laegrem. Their somberness was disconcerting and for a few moments we just looked at one another. Finally, I caught sight of Selediel. She was not smiling.

"You have heard the news?" she asked. I nodded.

Thavron the carpenter stepped forward, "You are the Aran Nelyar, Legolas. We will follow your word." There was a rumble of assent from the people. I looked at Thavron and swallowed hard. I looked behind me for support. Ereglin put his hand on my shoulder. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. I thought of Nador and I envisioned myself speaking like him. "I hear your words," I said, looking at Thavron and the people around him. "Let me talk with Amondorn. Maybe I can help him to listen." Thavron looked long at Ereglin and Gaelin then nodded his head. There was a murmur of assent and the crowd parted so that I could continue on my way.

"You shouldn't go to Amondorn." whispered Gaelin as she opened the kitchen door for me. "I'm worried that it might not be safe for you to be with him."

"It's Amondorn. He's my teacher, Gaelin. He has always wished me well." Part of me could not believe how upset Gaelin was. Part of me worried at her concern.

"Still, you should let us go with you," said Ereglin.

I shrugged. "I think it would go better if I just talked to Amondorn myself," I said. I stopped when I noticed that everyone in the kitchen was looking at me.

Heledirn took charge of the situation in a moment. "What is the matter with you all? Get back to work and give Legolas some peace." He turned to me, "How can I help you young prince?"

I looked around nervously. "Do you know where I could find Amondorn? I need to talk to him."

Heledirn nodded, "Cyldae just took a glass of wine to him. He's in the library. Really, Legolas, I don't know what all the fuss is about. I've never seen such a day. Perhaps there was something amiss in the _malengalas_ to make everyone so dour. Have you eaten yet?"

I nodded. I turned to go to the library and Ereglin and Gaelin followed.

Amondorn was seated at a table piled high with papers and scrolls. The long fingers of his left hand marked a place in some text. He did not look up at me at first, but continued writing on a tablet to his right. "Now, Legolas," he said as he wrote, "What can I do for you?" He looked up and raised his eyebrows when he saw Ereglin and Gaelin. "What can I do for all of you?" he amended.

I looked around the room. It was well lit, by cave standards, with lanterns hung from pegs set between massive bookshelves that lined the wall. A three wicked lamp hung over the table where Amondorn was working.

"Why are you working in here?" I asked, both curious and a little dismayed. Perhaps a dungeon wouldn't seem frightening to Amondorn.

"Your father left me with much to keep track of, young prince," said Amondorn, "I generally come here to work to avoid being distracted. I thought with today being a holiday, I might be able to work uninterrupted."

"Well, I won't interrupt you too much," I said. I drew close to the desk and chewed on my lower lip. I took a quick breath and put my shoulders back. "I just wanted to ask you to please let Taenor out of the dungeon. It's awfully dark and still down there and I'm worried that he might get scared."

Amondorn crossed his arms and looked at me soberly. "That's very thoughtful of you Thranduilion," he said, "and I would like to grant your wish. Unfortunately, Taenor exercised poor judgement when he gave the wine to Cumarad. Someone could have died."

"But Cumarad didn't die," I protested, "and Taenor was supposed to work in the kitchens for his punishment."

"Legolas was _Aran Nelyar_," interjected Ereglin, "You need to follow his will."

Amondorn sat up straighter in his chair and looked closely at Gaelin and Ereglin. "You are Boronel's children, are you not?" They nodded. "Well, let me clarify a few things for you. First, I do appreciate your bringing your concerns to me. I am happy to hear from you. Ethoron reported to me the events of last night, and it sounds like he handled things quite well. Your edict did a good job of distracting the crowd, Legolas, and for that I am in your debt, but the _Aran Nelyar_ is an honorific title, which means it has no real power. You are a child, Legolas," he continued kindly, "and it would be the height of irresponsibility to place the welfare of the kingdom in the hands of a child for even a little while. You and I both know that wood elves can be rather foolish. Well, Taenor let his foolishness get out of control. He won't be harmed while he is in the dungeon. I've instructed Heledirn to feed him well, but it just isn't safe to have his sort about without giving him a consequence for his actions."

"But I did give him a consequence," I protested.

Amondorn stood and nodded towards us, "And it served a good purpose for a little while. I would love to spend more time talking with you about this problem, but I really don't have the time right now. You need to trust the adults in this situation to work things out." He waved us towards the door. "Could you please latch the door on your way out? Oh and Legolas?" he continued, "Lessons tomorrow at the upper terrace after lunch."

We stood in stunned silence outside the closed library door. Finally we turned and walked back towards the surface.

"I think it was good that my father was not here," said Ereglin at last. "I don't think he would have liked what Amondorn said."

"What do we do now?" I asked after a time. We were drawing near to the yard, and I didn't want to meet the expectant gaze of my people with no good news. "I wish that there was someone who could talk with Amondorn."

"Galion is our voice to the king," said Gaelin, "but he's not here either."

We entered the yard and we were not there for two minutes when a crowd of Laegrim gathered round us. At first no one said anything, then Thavron asked, "What happened? Does Amondorn respect your will?"

I looked at him and then shook my head. "He thinks that wood elves are foolish. He didn't listen."

There was some angry grumbling and Thavron crossed his arms over his chest. Taenor is family. It's wrong for him to be held against his will, especially if it's against the will of the_ Aran Nelyar_." There was a murmur of assent from the crowd.

"We need to work this problem from both ends of the rope," he continued, "We need to find a way to set Taenor free from within, and those of us from without must show Amondorn that the Aran Nelyar is to be respected."

"How do we do that?" asked the tanner.

Thavron thought for a minute. "I don't know," he said finally. "I just don't know."

The yard was empty for the rest of the evening. Even the road over the bridge was abandoned. The evening song of the summer insects was undisturbed. Save for the swallows diving for a late evening meal, all was at rest in and around the keep. It was as though the Laegrim elves had vanished into their beloved woods. Eventually, Ereglin and I withdrew to my quarters where my dreams were filled with a soft stillness and dusky hues.


	18. Chapter 19

"We had best go to my mother's fire for breakfast," said Ereglin as he came into the room the next morning. He had gone down to the kitchen while I sang my morning song. "Nobody came to work today and Heledirn isn't happy. I saw him setting the fire under the great kettles himself. I had no idea he could swear like that."

I dressed quickly and we left for the yard. When we got there I discovered that the Silvan workers had indeed taken action. They were there, to be sure, but seemed utterly disinclined to do any work. They stood and sat in groups of three or four talking and laughing. There was even a group of elves high in the maple tree singing a morning song to one another. I caught sight of Selediel sitting at a a table near her home.

"Good morning, Prince Legolas," she called as I drew near. "Come, I have something for you and Ereglin." She disappeared into the bakery for a few minutes and came out carrying a tray filled with sweet rolls and tea. "These are yesterday's rolls," she explained as we sat down at a table, "and we won't be baking any today, or maybe tomorrow either. Nobody wants to work for Amondorn if he's not willing to listen."

"That makes sense to me," said Ereglin, "Although I imagine it will put a few people out."

After we had finished our breakfast we climbed to the upper terrace to see what else might be going on. Several companies of warriors were there, making the field quite crowded, but most of them were sitting or standing around the perimeter. In the center of the field, about three dozen elves were congregated. They were not dressed as warriors, but were naked, save for a rough loincloth, and dark blue paint applied decoratively to their faces and bodies.

I wormed my way to the front of the observers to get a better look.

"It's mustard pulp," said a voice behind me. I turned to find Boronel at my elbow. "The blue on their bodies comes from a plant known as woad. Quite beautiful, don't you think? Although I've heard it's harder than orch stench to remove."

"Why are they decorated like that?" I asked. "What are they getting ready for?" The warriors had come together in the center of the yard and were dividing themselves into three groups of twelve. Four abreast in ranks three deep they stood. With hair unbound and skin decorated with swirls of blue, they looked exotic and daunting. They each grasped two wicked looking knives, made of struck stone blades hafted to sturdy lengths of antler. There was not a metal blade amongst them.

"It is the _uruvae_ whispered Boronel. "Danced by the ancient warriors who called this woods home long before Oropher and his house appeared. It seems that Amondorn ruffled a few feathers with his comment about foolish wood elves. There is nothing foolish about Laegren warriors preparing for battle."

Suddenly, there was the _thwomp_ of a long drum. The warriors froze and a respectful silence settled on the crowd. There must have been well over a hundred people there, and yet the silence was so profound that the buzz of a single horsefly could be heard. The bodies of the warriors were tense, not relaxed. They were waiting for something. They were so still that I could barely discern their breathing.

The sense of anticipation grew slowly until it became almost unbearable. Amidst the warriors there was a spirit of tension, of great power building like a violent summer storm. Their breathing changed, becoming deep and slow, like a great anger or lust held barely in check. Mouths closed, nostrils flaring, eyes ahead and brilliant in their intensity. Without even looking at one another they breathed in unison, setting a slow rhythm of barely bridled force. They began to hum, a low sonorous sound that was almost too low to hear. It built in intensity, and yet they did not move.

I found that I had to force myself to be still. I wanted to shout, or shift, to release the tension that grew ever greater with each passing moment. Just when it seemed like I could not possibly hold the stillness and the tension for another second, one of the warriors cried loudly. It was a sharp and primal scream that sent goose bumps racing down my spine. In a flash the company was silently moving in unison.

It was a dance, but what a dance! The energy flowed from the shoulders and set the knives flashing. Each warrior danced the same steps as the others. There was synchrony, even as there was leaping and twisting and high kicks and turns. All was well measured but with a power I had never seen before. Time and again one warrior would move across where another had been not a moment earlier. It was balance in motion, rhythm and liquid action as smooth and as wild as a river turbulent in the tumult of snowmelt. I watched slack-jawed as the dancers swirled before me, forgetting my body, forgetting myself. I was caught in the movement and the power and the moment. There was nothing but the dance and it was a part of me and I was lost within it.

Suddenly, the dance was done, and I found myself gasping for breath. My heart was pounding. Ereglin put his arm around my shoulders to balance me. I could hear him breathing deeply as well. The dancers had become people again. They shook out their arms and stretched their legs. They smiled at one another but they did not talk. Boronel bent down beside my ear and whispered, "They are not finished yet."

The second movement of the _uruvae_ set pairs of warriors against one another. To begin, they stood with eyes locked on one another. There was no signal to start, but almost imperceptibly, the warriors began to move. Slowly they began to feint and parry with one another, creating defense and offense, strike and block. The most remarkable thing was the way that they anticipated the moves of one another and never allowed body or blade to contact the other. There was no clear leader or follower, just constant give and take that slowly grew in speed and intensity as the dance progressed. Every element of the body, arms, legs, shoulders, head, feet were called into play.

Each pair developed a dance of their own. My eyes could not see it all. As time passed the rhythm of the dance became more pronounced and occasionally there was a sharp "clack" as blades collided. I could see the effort of staying focused was taking its toll. Suddenly, one warrior sucked in his breath sharply, a stripe of red appeared across his chest. Immediately the pair bowed and left the dance, but the dance continued at an even greater pace. I leaned forward, worried now that other warriors would be injured. I bit my lower lip and dared not look away. The dance ended abruptly with a strike of the drum. My body was so keyed up that it felt like I would have to move just to take the place of the movement of the warriors. Finally I calmed myself and my breathing returned to normal.

But the dance was not over. The drum continued to beat. The warriors walked to the side of the circle and carefully set their knives down. When they returned, they formed loose concentric circles with four elves in the middle and eight around the outside. There was a moment of disarray as the warriors drew their hair back behind their shoulders and wiped the sweat from their faces. Eventually they stood and took a ready position. The drum began marking slow time. They began the dance of the body fighting, a fierce skill in which a warrior learns to bring down the other barehanded. For every two elves attacking from the outside of the circle, there was one elf on the inside of the circle dancing the defense. The moves were graceful and strong. There was no unison in this dance; every trio fought their own battle, and yet there was a certain synchrony of grace and beauty. The strokes and kicks were powerful and always barely missed their target. Just when it looked like the battle might resolve, the drum would miss a beat and the circles would move, setting up new groups for battle. The sun shone down on the warriors. Their sweat glistened over dark blue shoulders and backs, and still they danced.

Finally, the drum sounded three sharp strikes. The warriors froze and then moved back to their original array, four abreast, three ranks deep. They stood like statues in the hot midday sun. Nobody moved and the stillness was absolute.

Finally, several elves stepped forward one at a time to stand before the warriors, but the warriors did not move. The elves returned to the crowd. The minutes passed. The crowd started to shift and murmur quietly.

"What are they waiting for?" I whispered to Boronel, after the warriors had stood for a time.

"They await the command of their leader."

"But who is their leader?" I asked.

"Why don't you step forward and ask them?" said Boronel.

I looked at him skeptically, but after there was still no movement for a time, I shrugged my shoulders and stepped forward, even as the other elves had done. The sterness of the warriors melted like magic as I approached. They laughed and smiled and reached out to touch me. I soon found myself surrounded by tall blue warriors. All fierceness had fled, and I was immersed in their good will and joy.

"Thank you!" I said at last, after I found my voice. "Oh, that was wonderful!" Those watching the dance began talking and laughing and moving forward to greet the dancers.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a lone figure holding back. When I turned fully to see who it was I recognized Amondorn. His body was stiff and his features were stern. He gazed directly into my eyes and then turned and left.

I wanted to stay and celebrate with my people, to stay close to the dancers, but I thought it best to follow Amondorn. I hadn't meant to be late for my lessons. I hoped that my actions wouldn't get me into trouble.

I found Amondorn at the bottom of the stairway. He was gazing at the ground with a distant look on his face. I approached him slowly, sure that I was the cause of his displeasure, but he came to himself and smiled at me. "Good day, little prince," he said. There was no smile in his voice. "The terrace seems to be taken." His voice was stressed, "Let's adjourn to the library for your lessons."

I sighed inwardly. It was a beautiful day and I had no wish to spend hours closed up in some cavern. Yet Amondorn was my teacher and I felt obliged to do as he said. We walked silently to the interior corridors. I blinked at the sudden darkness as we stepped inside. The cool air of the caves was welcome after the heat of the day. By the time we got to the library I had marshaled my thoughts into applying myself to the task at hand.

"Sit down, Legolas," said Amondorn as we arrived at the library. I took my usual place at a table near the bookshelves and tried hard not to swing my feet. Amondorn walked around his desk and sat down heavily behind it. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He licked his lips and looked at me for a long moment. "Do you know," he said at last, "what it was that you were just witness to, young prince?"

"Boronel said that it was the curuvae," I offered.

"The _uruvae_," corrected Amondorn. "It's one of the high dances of the ancient Laegrim. It used to be danced every year on the first night of the full moon after Midsummer. He paused, "They use it, Legolas, as a way to demonstrate their fighting prowess, but also as a way to select a new leader. I saw the uruvae once when Oropher became leader. I saw it over a millennia ago when your father Thranduil became leader. I have not seen it since."

"Why did they dance the _uruvae_ today?" I asked.

Amondorn carefully matched his finger tips together and leaned forward in his chair. "That is precisely the question I've been asking myself. Thranduil has been gone on campaigns longer that this and there has never been this unrest. Yet here we are, with him gone less than three months and there is this disquiet over the Midsummer and the uruvae is danced in broad daylight and you are claimed as leader."

I squirmed in my seat. I did not like the way that Amondorn was looking at me. He was troubled and upset. I felt as though I had done something wrong. Finally, he moved my study books onto the desk, but then he stared at them and did not open them. A tense silence ensued.

"Legolas," he said at last, "it seems that a matter has come up that warrants my immediate attention. I will be in counsel most of the afternoon. I would ask that you remain near the keep today; I may have need of you." He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "You are dismissed."

I didn't wait to see if Amondorn was going to change his mind. I slid down from my chair and left the library in a run. I figured if I hurried I might find some of the blue painted warriors to talk to. I really wanted to meet them and find out more about the dance.

When I got to the top of the stairs I was breathless. The yard had all but emptied of dancers and spectators. Six of the warriors remained. Five were seated under the canopy of a wide maple tree; the sixth was standing in front of them, demonstrating one of the moves from the dance. They were all dressed in trousers, but without shirts. I could still see the striking blue patterns on their bodies. They all watched me as I approached.

"Look, it is our leader!" called the one who was standing. He smiled a bright smile at me and began to walk towards me. I was not shy, but ran directly at him and threw my arms around him. I could feel the ripple of his muscles as I grabbed him around the waist. "You're here!" I cried, "I thought that you would be gone. I am so glad that you stayed for awhile. I want to talk to you. Do you have time?" I stepped back and looked up into his face.

"My time is yours," said the warrior, bowing graciously and laughing at my enthusiasm. "Come sit in the shade," He pointed with his chin to where the others were lounging in the shade. "We would all welcome you, little brother."

The elves moved aside to allow me to sit amongst them under the canopy of a large oak. At first they all looked the same to me with their blue skin, dark brown hair and deep gray eyes, but as I looked closer I could discern differences. I felt quite small among them, but also very safe.

"What would you like to know?" asked my host after I had gotten settled.

"How did you dance like that? How did you dance without hurting each other? Someone got hurt, I remember. Where is he?" I looked around until I saw a warrior with a cut across his chest. "I am sorry you got hurt," I said soberly. The injured elf smiled at me. His eyes twinkled and he inclined his head.

"First, let us tell you who we are," said my host. "I am Orothador, and this is my brother Seron. Maedhrui, Thombarad, Condir and Halthor. We've been dancing as a group since, well, since long before Oropher came."

"Why doesn't my village have dancers?" I asked.

Orothador smiled, "You might not know it if it did. The _uruvae_ is most ancient and usually very private. It trains the body for battle without the aid of bows or metal knives. Not many seek the training any more. The Sindarin weapons are too appealing. We danced today to proclaim that we do not bow to anyone, save our leader, and Amondorn is not our leader."

"He made you mad by calling you foolish elves, didn't he?" I asked.

Orothador laughed, "Words are like water, little brother," he said, "Sometimes the greatest fool is the one who listens to foolish words." He sobered, "Amondorn does not respect the Laegrim and he refutes the authority of the _Erain Nelyar_. He needs to be reminded that we still have great power."

"But why don't you just talk to him?" I asked.

Orothador grinned at me, "The best learning is by learning to listen! It will not hurt Amondorn to be discomfited for a time. Hopefully, he will listen and Taenor's stay in the dungeon will be short."

"Amondorn says that he hasn't seen the _uruvae_ since my father was named leader. Has it really been that long since you have danced?"

Orothador raised his eyebrows, "Does it look like we haven't danced for centuries?" There was a ripple of laughter among the warriors. I shook my head.

"We dance the _uruvae_ every year, Legolas. We dance for ourselves and for those who would speak for us. Traditionally every twelve years or so at the end of the dance we choose the Laegel who will be our voice to the king for the next twelve years. Last time it was Galion. He is with the king now in the south. We've been trying to get Thavron the carpenter to serve for many years, but he is too reluctant to serve." He winked at me, "That was another reason to dance today, but Thavron didn't come, the rascal."

I sat up straight. "You chose me as leader. Do I get to serve as voice to the king? I think I would like that."

"You surprised us when you stepped forward," said Seron. There was chuckling agreement from the rest of the warriors. Orothador looked down at me kindly. "I would suspect that you will be a great voice to the king, but do you think you could wait until you have grown a bit? I think you have some learning ahead of you, little brother."

"Then teach me," I said promptly. "Teach me how to listen."

"Eh, we will do what we can, Legolas." His eyes were smiling, "Do you venture often beyond the keep?"

I nodded. "I often go to Aegiriel's fire, and Gaelin is teaching me the bow at the meadow at the south end of the lake. I would go more often, but I work with Talagand on my singing and Amondorn is teaching me to read and write."

The smile vanished from Orothador's eyes. Several of the warriors shifted their position. The joy was gone from the air. "Amondorn teaches you to write?" said Orothador at length, "Why would he do such a thing?"

I looked at the faces around me. No one was smiling. "I want to write," I said timidly, "I want to write a letter to my aunt and uncle to let them know I am doing well."

"Their names," said Orothador earnestly. "Has Amondorn shown you how to write their names?"

Suddenly, I remembered my father's reluctance to teach me how to write the names of the members of my family. "No," I said quietly, "I don't know how to write their names."

Orothador breathed an audible sigh of relief. "It is well, Legolas. Writing captures the words and weakens them. For some words it is of little consequence, but you never want to capture the names of those you love. It might do them harm."

I was perplexed. My father had seemed to have no problem writing his name or mine. But it was Amondorn who had taught me most of my writing. I could tell that the warriors were not pleased.

I heard someone crossing the terrace and I looked up. Ereglin was approaching. He grinned when he saw me. "I should have known you would be talking to the dancers," he said. "I hope you have not interrupted them."

"It is not an interruption when his company is so very welcome," said Orothador smoothly. The others nodded.

"I would love to visit with you as well," said Ereglin wistfully, "but Amondorn has asked me to bring Legolas to the King's office as quickly as possible."

Reluctantly I stood and touched the hands of each of the warriors. "I hope Amondorn listens soon," I said, "Perhaps I can talk to you again before long."

Orothador stood and embraced me warmly. "It will not be long, little brother, I promise."

-0-0-0-0

Sorry for the cliffie. I wonder what Amondorn has in mind for Legolas? One can only hope that he's ready to listen.

I hope this chapter worked for you. Thanks so much for taking a minute to respond!


	19. Chapter 20

For the second time that day I entered the darkness of the caverns. I found myself restless at the thought of spending any time indoors. The day was too fair and the events too intriguing to want to miss any of the manifestations of unrest in the keep. Ereglin noticed my reluctant steps, but he did not comment, he merely slowed his own stride to match mine. We were headed for the royal offices, not to the library, and I wondered what could have transpired to have me summoned so soon after my departure.

As we drew near to the heavy doors of the office, they opened and a warrior dressed in full battle gear emerged. He did not acknowledge us, but walked past with a preoccupied grimness on his face. His whole countenance was travel worn. My eyes followed him as he made his way down the corridor.

Ereglin touched my arm, and I turned to go into the office. The light from the window was bright and at first I could only make out two figures seated at the table in the center of the room. My eyes adjusted and I saw that Amondorn and Thalion were looking at me expectantly.

"Ah, Legolas, come in," said Amondorn. He indicated that I should be seated, but I preferred to stand. I could sense Ereglin's discomfort in being ignored. He stepped back against the wall. I walked to the table and stood before the two adults.

Amondorn folded his hands together and leaned forward. He spoke slowly. "Thank you for coming so promptly, Legolas. What I have to say is of utmost importance. I want you to understand that what I am about to tell you is for your own safety, although it may prove to be a challenge for a time." He paused looked at me earnestly. "The_ uruvae_ that you observed this morning is of grave concern to your welfare and the welfare of Thraduil's kingdom. Now, I believe, and Thalion affirms, that what we may be seeing is nothing short of an insurgency aimed at usurping your father's leadership as king. While we don't have enough information to make any arrests as of yet, I do find that your safety may be compromised. Legolas," he said soberly, "for a time, perhaps until your father returns, I am confining you to your room."

I looked at Amondorn, to dumbstruck to speak. Confined? To my room? Thalion crossed his arms and nodded, as though to affirm Amondorn's words. I knew that the right thing to do was to obey, but Amondorn was so very wrong in his assumptions, so very wrong about everything! Before I could gather my wits, Amondorn spoke again.

"It should not be for too long, Thranduilion," he said gently. "The messenger who just left the room came from the South. All is not well there, I fear, but your father did not plan to have a long absence."

The words rolled past my ears unheeded. I was to be confined. To my room. Indoors in a cave when the day begged for being out and about. I turned to seek strength from Ereglin, but he had disappeared. I hung my head and nodded. What else could I do? I was too stunned to cry.

Dolnor and Eluvorn were the two guards who escorted me to my room, but I did not favor them with a greeting. I followed them mutely with my eyes downcast. I wasn't sure what an insurgency was, but I knew that I must be involved somehow. Amondorn was choosing my punishment even as he had chosen Taenor's. I wondered what he thought I had done that merited such a severe consequence.

Eluvorn opened the door to my room and I went inside. The latch sounded loudly as it closed behind me. I crossed at once to look out my window. Ripples on the little lake shone brilliantly in the heat of the midsummer sun. Tall cattails grew at one end of the lake and I could see a flock of redwing blackbirds perched precariously on the slender stalks. There were no waterfowl on the lake; it lay empty and inviting, as though beckoning me to come for a swim. I sighed and climbed to my perch on the sill. It was going to be a long afternoon.

It was not too much later when I heard the door open and Ereglin came into the room. He was carrying a tray with a simple meal and he quietly placed in on the table. He looked at me intently. "How goes it, Legolas?"

"That's a fool's question," I said sullenly. I spun from the window and set my feet on the ground. I looked at him angrily. "Where did you go? Why did you leave the room without me? I am confined to my room, did you hear? And I can't go outside, and I can't go swimming! Why did you leave me alone with Amondorn? I needed you there Ereglin. Where did you go?" A tear of frustration slid down my cheek, followed by another.

Ereglin was beside me in a moment. He knelt and embraced me tightly.

"Eh, Legolas," he said at last, "I didn't mean to leave your side. I didn't know if I was going to be confined as well, and I think it is important for Orothador to know what happened. I slipped out and told him that you are being held against your will. He was not happy to hear that."

I rubbed the tears from my eyes. "Was he still there, under the tree?"

Ereglin nodded.

"Do you think he meant what he said about teaching me?"

"Orothador speaks the truth," said Ereglin, "You can trust his word. Now, are you hungry at all? Heledirn made the stew himself. None of the Laegrim came to work today.

I walked over to the soup and smelled it. It seemed well enough. I ate in silence. When the meal was finished, Ereglin gathered the dishes and prepared to take them back to the kitchen. I was loathe to see him go, but I thought to distract myself by talking with Dolnor and Eluvorn. After Ereglin left, I stood with my toes on the threshold of the open doorway.

"Talk to me," I said to Dolnor. "Tell me about what is going on outside."

Dolnor turned and looked down at me and smiled. "You've only been confined for an hour, Legolas. Nothing much has happened, and if it had I'd not know of it, since I've been keeping watch at my post."

"Well," I said, desperate not to have the door shut on me again, "Tell me how it is you are posted here, then. I thought you and Eluvorn usually served in the downstairs corridors."

"It's all different today, Legolas," said Dolnor, "The Laegren guards never came on their shift today. Thalion had to call in Sindar to fill the posts. Word is that the keep can't operate without the Laegrim. They provide most of the labor for receiving supplies, cooking the meals, serving hospitality and provisioning the caves and surrounding areas with food and dry goods. There's not hardly enough folk to run the place, much less provide a defense."

"A defense?" I asked, "Defense against what?" I remembered the grim warrior leaving the office and I wondered for a moment if the Darkness was drawing close to the keep.

Dolnor knelt down and spoke quietly, "I'm sure it's no secret any more, Legolas, but the Laegrim are planning to take over the keep. They disappeared into the woods last night to do some secret planning, and this morning they did some dark magic ritual with blue dye on their skin and stone knives. No good will come of that, mark my words. We'll keep you safe, though. They can't take you while you're under our watch, that's for sure."

Eluvorn cuffed Dolnor on the shoulder, "Don't go scaring the prince, you fool! He doesn't need to know Amondorn's concerns."

Dolonor looked up at his brother sharply, then looked at me again.

"I'm not afraid," I said firmly, "I don't know why Amondorn is so worried. If he would just let Taenor out of the dungeon everything would work out."

"That's not going to happen," said Dolnor as he stood and resumed his post, "Word has it that guard has doubled for Taenor. They say he's a spy, that one, or at least a rabble rouser. It was a good thing that Amondorn had him detained. Who knows how much mischief he would have caused?"

My protests were forestalled by the sound of someone approaching in the corridor. At first the dimness of the torchlight made it hard to discern who was coming, but then I recognized Gaelin's footfalls. I wanted to run and greet her, but at the last moment I remembered my restrictions and I kept my place.

"Greetings, Nelyar," called Gaelin as she approached, "And good afternoon to you," she said to the guards, bowing gracefully. She was dressed in the grays and greens of the_ tauron_ and carried a large pack on her back.

Dolnor and Eluvorn moved to stand in front of me. "I'm sorry, Gaelin, but we cannot let you pass."

"Oh, this isn't a social visit," said Gaelin quickly, "I'm here in official capacity. I'm Legolas' teacher and it is time for his lessons."

Dolnor and Eluvorn looked at one another nervously.

"Look," said Gaelin, "Legolas shouldn't get behind on his lessons. We can leave the door open so that you can keep an eye on us if you'd like. Ereglin said that I could find Legolas here. I'm ready to teach if he's ready to learn."

"Very well then," said Eluvorn reluctantly and he stepped aside.

I watched silently as Gaelin set her pack on the floor and began to unload it. First she pulled out a number of very straight wooden rods, a handful of feathers and a large foul smelling jar with a tight lid on it. She pulled out her short knife and sat cross legged on the floor.

"How did you know to find me here?" I asked at last. I sat beside her and touched one of the rods. It was smooth and well sanded with a nock at one end.

"I didn't," she said, "I was actually looking for you to see if you would like to learn how to fletch arrows today. I saw Ereglin in the kitchen just now and he said that I would find you here. He'll be back in a moment."

She looked around the room appraisingly. "I was last here when it was the Queen's room. It hasn't changed much. It hardly looks lived in. Legolas, Is this really where you sleep?"

I nodded unhappily. "I would much rather sleep in a _talan_, but that is not allowed."

Gaelin drew me out of my dark thoughts by showing me how to fletch arrows. Deftly she split several large duck feathers along the quill and cut a single fletch from each side of the feather. When Ereglin arrived, we sorted the feather pieces into groups of three, taking care to match them in curve and length. The ends of the quills were trimmed with the knife to a flat point that would rest flush on the shaft. When we were done sorting and trimming, Gaelin showed us how to use a jig, which consisted of two square pieces of wood that were slid onto the shaft. Grooves ran from the center of each piece jig to secure the feathers at the correct angle.

When all was ready, Gaelin carefully opened the jar. It was almost filled with water and smelled of decaying flesh. She showed no hesitation but reached inside and pulled out a narrow strip of deer sinew. She wrapped the sinew around the shaft once. She placed the wooden jigs securely on the table and asked me to help hold the arrow to stabilize it, Then she carefully added the three feathers, binding their tops to the shaft one at a time, checking to see that they were properly placed. She smoothed the sinew between each step.

"We'll just bind the tops of the fletches today," she said, "It can take awhile for the sinew to dry."

My own efforts were slow and not nearly as trim as Gaelin's. Even Ereglin had a hard time setting the feathers on the shaft. It often took me several tries to get the fletches properly placed. Gaelin was a patient teacher, but she would not accept shoddy work. My stack of fletched shafts grew slowly.

"Let's set these by the window to dry," she said at last, "I'll come back tomorrow and we'll bind the other end of the fletch to the shaft."

I looked to the window. The afternoon was almost gone. I had been so absorbed in the task at hand I had almost forgotten my confinement. As Gaelin prepared to leave anxiety washed over me anew. "Do you need to leave me now?" my voice sounded plaintive to my ears.

Gaelin paused in her packing. "I will be back tomorrow, Legolas, I promise. You and Ereglin will have a good evening together, you'll see."

In the end it took all of Ereglin's skill to make the evening tolerable. I became very sensitive to the fact that the cavern was devoid of the life that made the out of doors so satisfying. I was restless and spent quite some time pacing the perimeter of the room, stopping at the window on occasion to look wistfully at the world beyond my reach. I had been disciplined a fair number of times, but never forced to stay in a place not of my own choosing. Even when told to help Nathel at the fire, there was no guard set to keep me there.

Finally, long after the sun had set, Ereglin coaxed me to stop my fretting and go to bed. I tossed restlessly through the night and woke up irritable and sad.

The second day of my confinement was much worse that the first. I found that I could not sing. Ereglin tried to distract me with stories and idle conversation and I did try my best to be good for his sake. Gaelin came in midmorning and brought with her two large servings of fresh fish.

"Ada caught them this morning," she explained, "He wasn't sure you'd be getting anything from Heledirn."

"What's it like out of doors?" I asked after I had devoured my share of the fish. "What are the Laegrim doing?"

"Amondorn has set his guards all along the parapets, and he has half a company near Thranduil's gates." reported Gaelin, "Our people are waiting. They know that you are being held against your will, Legolas, but without the voice to the king or an invitation to talk from Amondorn, they really have no recourse. Many of our people have been sent to their home fires for safety, but a large contingent of Laegren warriors are keeping watch fully armed just outside the keep." She paused. "There is rumor afoot that Amondorn has planned this whole disruption so that he can claim kingship over the Sindar and exclude the Laegrim. He would claim the caverns and leave your father to the woods."

I looked at Gaelin and Ereglin. Their countenance was grim and I was frightened. I walked over to the window. The brightness of the summer day was unfolding, and I was not going to be a part of it. How I wanted to be outside! The view became blurred and I blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. If only someone would come and fix the mess that Amondorn had created! I wondered where my father was. He needed to come back.

My eyes traced the path of a pair of geese across the sky. If Amondorn really took over the Caverns, I wondered what would become of me. I could not stay in this room forever. I feared for my father's safety and now for my own as well. Overcome with anxiety, I finally abandoned my post by the window. I slid to the floor and pulled my knees up under my chin. I wrapped my arms around my legs, lowered my head and I wept.

It was Gaelin's care that got me through that long day. She did not coddle me, but quietly set out her tools while I cried. When at last my tears were spent she called me over to see what she had brought.

"Eh, Legolas," she said gently, "we can finish fletching today and then I think I'll show you how to set the heads on the arrows. Choose a shaft now and I'll show you how to wrap the lower part of the quill to the shaft. We'll need to trim the feathers a bit, or perhaps you would like to just tuck the loose bits of feather under the sinew as we wrap it." We had two dozen shafts, and even with Ereglin's help the task took quite some time.

We took our lunch while we waited for the sinew thread to dry, and Gaelin took the opportunity to tell me the materials and functions of the variety of arrow heads that she had brought with her. The tauron usually used their bows on small game so smaller, narrow heads were usually sufficient. Gaelin had also brought several iron heads. There was a heavy broad head with four sharp blades that the warriors used to take down orcs. They were used in close range to do as much damage as possible. Another broad head was much slimmer and with only two blades. Gaelin favored it when hunting deer, when she could take her time sighting the shot.

The arrows we were making were going to be used for practice. Gaelin had made a collection of struck arrowheads from flint. She showed me how to wedge them into a split at the top of the shaft and haft them down with a length of sinew thread.  
I found that if I focused on the arrows I was able to forget for awhile the sobering affect of the day. Gaelin's attempts at diversion came to an abrupt end when Amondorn arrived for a visit in the late afternoon.

The councilor entered my room unannounced. I was so absorbed in my work that I didn't notice that he was there until he cleared his throat, "Good day, Legolas. I thought I would stop by and see how you are doing."

I stared at him, startled to have my project interrupted. I could think of nothing to say.

Amondorn was carrying a small pile of books that he deposited on the table with care. "I have brought you your lessons, young prince, so that you might have something to do to pass the hours. But it looks like Ereglin has already seen to your needs. I won't stay long," he continued, when neither Ereglin nor Gaelin made a move to greet him. The silence grew uncomfortable.

"Well then," he said finally, "if you need anything, have Ereglin come to me with your request and I'll do my best to see that it's met. Is there anything that I can do to make your time more comfortable?" I shook my head. "Well then, Legolas, I'll be off." With a curt bow, he turned and left.

"I wish someone could talk to him," I whispered when the door had closed. I wondered if the rumors were true.

We finished the arrows long before the setting of the sun. Ereglin and Gaelin filled the rest of the day with stories from their childhood. I tried to be attentive, but sometimes it felt like their words were clear water skimming over an open wound in my heart. Never in my life had I been so deprived of my trees and the sky and the birds and the woods. I ached to be outside. I had no idea how long I would be sequestered in my room. I could feel my spirit withering as the hours passed.

That night I had trouble sleeping again. The moon, a day past full, shone through my window with enough brilliance to cast shadows in my room. I tried fitfully to go to sleep, but my eyes were drawn to the light and I gazed for hours at the sliver moon as it traced its course across the sky. About midnight a summer breeze blew in through the open window, stirring the curtains. A few moments later there was a brief flickering, as though something had crossed the path of the moon, blocking its light. I thought that it was a trick of the light, but then the light of the moon flickered again.

More curious than afraid, I slid from my bed and walked silently to the window. I peered into the darkness and stifled a cry when I saw the silhouette of a warrior climbing through the window of my room. My heart pounded in my chest and I froze, like a rabbit, too frightened to move. 


	20. Chapter 21

"Hsst," said the figure, "Be at peace, Legolas. It is I, Orothador."

My knees nearly gave way beneath me. As soon as Orothador cleared the sill I was upon him, giving him the strongest hug I could manage. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and bent so that he was whispering into my ear. "Are we alone here, Little Brother?" I shook my head and pointed at Ereglin sleeping on his mat. Orothador nodded.

"Is there somewhere we can go to talk?" he asked. I shook my head again and then paused. My father's room would serve the purpose. I twisted out of Orothador's embrace and led him to the hidden doorway that connected the two rooms. Cautiously, I lifted the edge of the heavy curtain that obscured the doorway and held it high. I tried the door, but it was locked. Orothador smiled. I could see his teeth shining in the moonlight. He pulled a slender blade from his waist and deftly slid it into the latch. There was a soft "click" and the door swung open. We moved into the room beyond without making a sound.

The drapes were partially drawn letting in a wide swath of silvery light. The room was meticulously clean. It felt empty and unused. I noticed that the window was ajar. I crossed to open it wider and breathed in the sweet coolness of the nighttime air. The stars were dim next to the brilliance of the moon. There was enough light to glisten off the surface of the lake as the water rippled in the breeze. I took another deep breath then turned to face Orothador. He was watching me with intense concern.

"You are not well, Legolas." It was a statement, not a question. I shrugged my shoulders and met his gaze. I would not hide my sorrow from him.

Orothador sighed and looked up as though considering his next words. "I don't wish to speak ill of Amondorn because I know that he is dear to your father." He looked at me again, "I can't read his thoughts, but forcing you and Taenor to stay beneath the stone is inexcusable." He paused. "Taenor at least has years behind him to teach him waiting, but you are a child and I grieve at the damage that is being done to you by Amondorn's choice."

"What can we do?" I asked in a small voice, "I don't know why Amondorn is punishing me, but I must obey him."

"He is not the leader of the Laegrim," said Orothador firmly, "Thranduil is. Legolas, I don't want to leave you in harm's way."

"Is that why you came?" I asked.

Orothador smiled warmly. "I came because I promised you it would not be long until we met again. I came because we are all worried for your welfare. I came because your people want you to know that they are standing in vigil for you until you return. Virtually a full army of Laegrim are keeping to the trees and watching from the woods just across the bridge. They stand by you, Thranduilion, because you are the Laegren Prince." Orothador shifted his weight and tilted his head, awaiting my response.

"How did you you get here?" I asked, "Did you climb up from the lake?"

Orothador laughed. "Hardly. The cliff is smooth and well nigh impassible even for my climbing skills. No, actually, there is a passageway that leads from this corridor out to the woods over the shoulder of the mountain to the east of the keep. It's very well hidden. I would not have known about it save for the help of your _meldir's_ mother. Aegliriel was a handmaiden to the queen and in her confidence. Should escape from the caverns ever have become necessary, Aegliriel was to go with the queen through this tunnel. I came in through that way, but when I saw the guards standing by your door I needed another path to you. I entered this room and traversed the face of the cliff only between this window and yours. I despaired of getting you out of here because that bit of climbing was quite dangerous."

"Out of here?" I echoed, "Could you really get me out of here?" I felt a desperate hope blossom in my heart. "Oh, Orothador, please don't leave me here. Please take me with you."

Orothador looked at me intently and nodded his head. "So be it, Little Brother, but what of your friend Ereglin? He is charged with your safety."

My heart sank. I could not leave him behind. "He is sworn to be with me," I said. "I'll be back in a moment." Without waiting for permission I ran back into my room and shook Ereglin by the shoulder. "Come Ereglin," I whispered. "Wake up!"

Ereglin woke with a start, "What is it, Legolas? What ails you?"

"I am fine," I said, "Orothador is here and wants to take us to safety."

Ereglin sat up slowly, "But Amondorn has told you to stay here."

"Amondorn isn't our leader," I explained, reciting Orothador's words, "my father is, and he has told me that I can go where I will."

Ereglin made me dress and put on my boots, which I did with trembling haste, but he offered no protest to my departure. In short order we were back in my father's room where Orothador was waiting.

"When we leave this room we go to the left," explained Orothador, "The light is dim in that direction, but we must move carefully so as not to alert the guards near your doorway. About fifteen paces down there is what looks like a set of overlapping stones on the wall to your right. If you look inward at the base of the overlap there is an opening that is small, but of sufficient height to slip into. That is the entrance to the tunnel."

"How do they keep it lit?" I asked anxiously. The thought of taking a long tunnel in the dark was not appealing.

Orothador reached out and placed one long fingered hand on my shoulder. "There is no light in the tunnel, Legolas, but there will be light enough for you in the morning when you rest in the safety of your people."

I looked full into Orothador's kind face and nodded. "I can do this," I said.

"Let me lead, then," said Orothador. "I'll go first. Let me get about halfway to the opening before you follow. We can only enter one person at a time, and it would not do to be caught outside the entrance. Legolas, you follow me and Ereglin come last. If you should get caught, Ereglin, do not hesitate to say that I stole the prince and you were chasing me down. I would not have blame for this rest on your shoulders."

We crowded close to the door of my father's room. Steathily, Orothador opened the it and eased his lean figure into the corridor. I held the door ajar and peered down the hallway as he walked. I bit my lower lip. Five paces, six paces, seven.

Suddenly there was a cry from the direction of my room. I heard the sound of swords being unsheathed. Orothador turned his head to look at the disturbance. There was an answering cry from behind him. I froze openmouthed as the guards who happened to be arriving for the second watch came into view, trapping Orothador between them. Frantically I pulled the door open wide, intending to come to Orothador's aid, but Ereglin grabbed me firmly by the shoulders, dragged me back into the room and swifly shut the door. I struggled in Ereglin's embrace. I could hear the shouting of voices and Orothador's calm reply.

"They might hurt him!" I hissed at Ereglin through clenched teeth, "We need to help him. Let me go!"

Ereglin shook me, "Be still Legolas! He will be in more trouble if they find out that he was here to abduct you. They won't be gentle, but I don't think he will come to serious harm. We need to get you back to your room before the guards find that you are missing." He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me through the door behind the curtain. "Get in bed and cover up. Let me do the talking."

I barely had time enough to pull the covers over my clothes when the door burst open and a guard entered the room.

"What is the commotion about?" demanded Ereglin, allowing a trace of fear in his voice.

"We've intercepted a trespasser," said one of the guards. "Is this room secure?"

"Legolas and I are the only ones in here," said Ereglin truthfully, "although how he can sleep through all this commotion is beyond me."

The guard looked in my direction and sheathed his sword. "Children can sleep through anything, I guess. We'll keep a double guard on your room tonight and let Amondorn deal with this fellow tomorrow. He was carrying several knives. I hate to say it, but I think it was his intent to murder the prince."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

A burst of warm summer wind from the window woke me the next morning. It slid over my face like a warm caress. For a moment I believed that I was back in my talan at home. Then I opened my eyes.

Ereglin was already up. He was sitting at the table waiting for me to awaken. There was a pot of tea and a small bowl of something on the table. The first thing I remembered is that I would not be allowed out of my room. Then I remembered what had transpired the night before. I slid off the bed and went to stand near Ereglin.

"It really happened, didn't it?" I asked.

Ereglin nodded his head and sighed. "We won't be getting a visit from Gaelin today, either," he said glumly. "Amondorn has sealed the caverns. Nobody is going to be going in or out."

"What about Orothador?" My voice was very small.

"Talk in the kitchen is just gossip, Legolas," said Ereglin angrily. He poured me a cup of tea and pulled out the other chair so that I could sit down.

"Tell me what you heard," I demanded, ignoring the gesture, "Did they hurt Orothador? Will they put him in the dungeon?"

"He is in the dungeon. And I don't know how he is doing."

The rest of the morning crawled by. I spent a good deal of it looking wistfully out the window and the rest of it pacing the floor. Every time I passed the table I looked at the stack of books that Amondorn had brought me, but the thought of reading or writing made me feel as though I were betraying Orothador and my people.

Ereglin tried to accommodate my restlessness, but he found several excuses to leave the room. Finally I snapped at him, "Stay gone, if you will. Climb a tree in my place. I can't stop you!"

"Legolas," he pleaded, "I'm sorry. I won't go again without your leave. I'm worried for my family. What happens if the rumors about Amondorn are true? What happens if those warriors on the parapet decide to begin shooting? My father is there, Legolas. He could come to harm. I keep going to the kitchen hoping to hear something."

"And what do you hear?" I asked, chagrined.

"Only that Amondorn has charged Orothador with attempted murder. He has ordered that the workshops be shuttered and sent those still in the yard to the safety of the caverns. He does not have a large fighting force, but there are many weapons in the armory.

The hours of the afternoon crawled by. The few times that the door was opened I could see four guards standing at attention in the corridor. I did not know their names. The food that Ereglin brought was the same kind of stew that I had been served the day before. It had been watered down and was so insipid that I could not eat it. I wasn't hungry anyhow.

By the time the evening light arrived, I had given up pacing and looking out the window. I felt trapped in the stone cavern and it did not ease my heart to look outside. I curled up on the bed and pretended to sleep. It was easier that way. The sky darkened without my noticing.

At some point my waking thoughts changed to dreaming. In my dreams I saw again the flickering of the moonlight. I found myself high up, higher that the top of the great tree in the yard, and I could see the soldiers moving about on the parapet. I remembered the lusty songs of the soldiers going off to battle in the south. They had marched bravely forth at a cadence that made me want to go with them. These warriors, on the other hand, were somber and subdued. They did not speak to one another but watched the woods warily, looking for the Laegrim who had once been their friends.

I peered into the darkness of the woods and somehow I could see the Laegrim gathered there. They were also somber, but their eyes were fierce with a fey light. They knew that I was being held and they feared for my safety. They thought of Taenor and Orothador as well. I realized with a sinking feeling that at some point their determination would change into action. They would advance on the caverns in an effort to claim us and blood would be spilt. I tried and tried to call for my father, but my voice was too weak for him to hear.

I came to myself with a sharp intake of breath. My vision faded. I despaired of the way that events were unfolding, but I knew in my heart that the worst could very well come to pass. I clenched my hands and closed my eyes. Where was the King when his people needed him? Where was my father? Finally I sighed and sat up and looked around me. The moonlight cast a quiet and silvered beam across the room. Ereglin lay sleeping upon his pallet. It was calm, as though there were nothing amiss.

Silently I got up from my bed and walked to the curtain on the wall. I slid behind the cloth and quietly opened the door. Someone needed to break the impasse before blood was spilt. I remembered what Galion had told my family on the day he came to fetch me. "If something should happen to the King, we would need a prince ready." I didn't feel ready, but I had served as Aran Nelyar. My efforts would need to suffice. I just hoped that I could find my way safely there.

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Orothador had little luck getting out of the caverns unseen. I wonder how Legolas will fare? Thanks for reading this week. I'd sure love to hear from you! 


	21. Chapter 22

Slipping by the guards was amazingly easy. I crouched low to the floor and envisioned myself as a tiny mole seeking the darkness. My feet did not so much as whisper on the stone. I dared not look back, but paused at the crevice only long enough to discern the opening. It was not large, but I was quite small and slid through like a raindrop.

At first the darkness of the corridor was disconcerting. I reached up and could not find the ceiling. I reached to the right and to the left and found that my fingertips just grazed the walls with my arms flung to their widest. The walls themselves were smooth and regular. This tunnel had been carved; it was not natural. I let the fingers of my right hand follow the wall as I walked. This helped me keep my balance, as well as keeping a safe distance from the walls. For some time I walked as quickly as I could, almost running. I had no idea how long the corridor was going to be, but if it exited in the woods to the east of the caverns I would have to transverse beneath most of the mountain before finding my way out.

Eventually my quick pace made me thirsty and hungry besides. My tongue felt thick in my mouth and my stomach growled noisily into the darkness. I slowed my pace and continued on my way. As I walked I tried to figure out what the best course of action would be, but my thoughts kept wandering to images of being back in my beloved woods. I confess that I cried for a time as I walked. The stress of the past few days bore down upon me and I found release in them. Eventually the tears stopped and I tried to pass the time by singing. My voice sounded tense and lonely in the darkness.

I do not know how long I walked, but it seemed like hours. At times the floor beneath me rose, at other times it fell. The tips of my fingers grew raw and bloody and eventually I had to switch hands. Thankfully, the ceiling was always high above me. I could move freely without concerns of bumping my head. My thirst increased, but my hunger abated and still I walked onward in the dark.

The exit to the caverns, when it came, nearly undid me. The moon had long since set and the opening was blocked by a large boulder that smacked my shins and made me fall. I sat down hard and looked around. Before me was another crevice, but this one led to the outdoors. If I had been more attentive I would have noticed earlier the cool breeze that flowed around me from the cavern into the woods.

Carefully I got up, climbed over the large rock and made my way between the two towering stones that guarded the entrance of the corridor. I looked up. In the shrouds of the predawn I could see the tall beech trees keeping their watch over the night. High beyond the latticework of their branches I could see the brilliant stars in the canopy of the sky. There were the night noises; the rustling of the leaves, the sighing of the wind, and not too far off, the gentle cry of an owl singing her nocturnal song. I walked over and leaned my cheek against the mottled trunk of a beech. It offered me what strength and comfort it could. I sighed deeply and closed my eyes. Then I looked up into the welcoming boughs of the tree and embraced the sturdy trunk. Such sweet relief. I was home.

I rested beneath the tree for a little while. My legs were tired and my thirst was still with me. I wanted to sleep but I knew that I needed to keep moving. Orothador had said that the tunnel exited on the eastern slope. I eyed the stars above me and set a southern course.

Eventually I made my way over the shoulder of the mountain. In the distance I could see the valley formed by the river that ran by the Gates. The river was a dark ribbon across the mantle of the woods. The undergrowth on the mountainside was low and lush.

I tried to avoid stepping on the young plants, but ferns and leaves brushed against my legs as I walked. As I got to the base of the mountain the way became steeper. I knew that I needed to get to the river so that I could follow its course upwards to the bridge. Stones slipped under my feet and eventually I found that I was climbing down a steep ravine to the river's edge. When I finally made my destination I did not stop but plunged into the water, reveling in its coolness. I immersed my face into the water and drank deeply. The water spilled against my parched throat and I was refreshed. I sat in the water at the edge of the river and let the current spill around me. I closed my eyes and let myself flow with the water. Smooth and lively and lovely and good. I was one with the river and I was comforted by its ways.

Eventually I resumed my trek and began the long walk up the river. Sometimes I walked on the shore, but there were places where I needed to walk in the river to stay on course. As I drew nearer to the caverns, my eyes, well adjusted to the shadows of the night, could discern the embers of the banked fires of different families glowing in the woods. The families all seemed to be sleeping, or at the very least they were not watching for a young elf to be walking up the river at night. I passed a birch grove where the trees shone with a haunting whiteness in the dark, and I startled two deer who had come to the river to drink.

As I drew near to the bridge I grew wary. I knew that the soldiers on the parapet were armed with bows and I had no desire to become their target. The moonless night was to my advantage. I envisioned myself as a silent owl and sped quietly on my way. The bridge itself came up quite suddenly and I hid myself in its shadows. I ducked beneath the structure to a little abutment of land that Ereglin and I had used for finding rocks. I sat down with my back against the foundation and pulled my knees up to my chin. I wrapped my arms around my legs and took a long, deep breath. Without intending to, I fell fast asleep.

The warmth of the summer morning was already apparent when I woke to the sound of yelling overhead. It came from the parapet.

"You have stolen the prince!" the voice was shouting, "Return him to us now and our justice will be lenient."

For a moment there was no response from the trees. Then a deep voice cried out, "You lie! We don't have the prince. We know that you have him. If you have harmed a single hair on his head, then your life will be forfeit!" There was a pause, then, "We are the Laegrim and we do not bow to traitors!"

I bit my lower lip and considered what I must do to restore the peace. My thoughts were interrupted by a dull thunk. The shaft of an arrow dropped to the ground before me. It was tipped with a four bladed arrowhead made of iron. A fierce anger took hold of me then. My vision darkened for a moment and I leapt to my feet. The madness had to stop.

Using my hands for balance, I climbed the steep bank of the river and hid behind the abutments of the bridge. Cautiously, I looked around. I could see the warriors ranked near the mouth of the cavern some distance away. Their swords were drawn. They were waiting for a command to attack. I turned and looked behind me. There was no visible sign of anyone in the woods. An almost tangible tension wound among the trees. Not a bird or an animal stirred. I could sense the breathing of the warriors within and an onerous humming could faintly be heard.

My course of action finally came clear. it made absolute sense. All I had to do was invite Amondorn down to talk with one of the Laegren. They didn't need to fight. I would stand in for my father and bring peace to the situation. I was the Aran Nelyar, and that fact would bring me strength.

I lifted my chin and brushed my hands together. As calmly as I could I walked to stand on the middle of the bridge. After a moment, I climbed to the top of one of the stone railings. If things did not go well, I decided, I would jump into the river and take my chances there.

I steadied myself, then cupped my hands around my mouth. "Amondorn!" I cried.

There was some shuffling on the parapet, and then Amondorn's voice could be heard. "Stand still, Legolas! My archers' arrows won't touch you, they will be aimed at the woods. I'm sending some warriors out to escort you safely to the keep. Don't move!"

My heart sank. With shields overlapping, five soldiers disengaged themselves from the troops at the cavern and walked steadily towards me. At first I was mesmerized by their advance. A sound behind me caused me to turn. A half dozen Laegren had started to emerge from the trees. "No!" I cried. A volley of arrows shot over my head. They were a warning; none made their mark. The Laegren paused, and then disappeared for a moment.

When they emerged from the trees again, they were two hundred strong.

The Sindarin soldiers hastened to reach my perch on the bridge. I could see firmness in their faces as they came. Desperately I saw how poor my plan was. Instead of preventing the battle, my actions were inciting it. I glanced at the water swirling beneath the bridge. I wondered if it might not be preferable to drown rather than cause the battle to commence. I sensed the Laegrim approaching. Frantically I looked at the Sindar. They had covered well over half the distance between the caves and the bridge.

Suddenly, they stopped as though by silent command. A shout went up from the Laegrim behind me.

I spun about only to see three magnificent war horses with warriors mounted approaching down the wide road through the forest. They rode with all haste. They did not slow until they came to the edge of the woods where the Laegren warriors were gathered. The lead rider reined in and pulled his midnight black mount to a stop. The sunlight glistened on the leader's golden hair.

"Ada," I breathed.

The King looked slowly over the tableaux before him, seeking something or someone. His eyes did not rest until they found me. I felt the full weight of his gaze. He said not a word but eased his horse through the Laegrim and came up onto the bridge and stopped before me.

"Ada!" I cried again, as his horse drew up beside me. I did not wait for my father's greeting, but threw myself at him, hugging him and clinging to him for dear life. The horse pranced impatiently but did not bolt. I felt my father's strong arms around me, settling me on the horse.

"Legolas," he whispered, "You are frightened. _Avo osto, ion nin_, I am here. Stay with me."

The moment of stillness was broken. Warriors advanced from the caverns and from the woods. Before they could set foot upon the bridge, my father held up his hand. "Stand down!" he commanded in a voice that carried the weight of full authority, "Stand down!" The soldiers with their shields paused. The Laegrim slowed to a stop. The other warriors, who had spilled from the embrace of the caverns stood. And then my father spoke.

"My people," he said, in his voice of command, "I don't know what has happened here, but I do know that our swords should be drawn against the enemy and not against one another." He paused and looked to the troops on either end of the bridge. He spoke slowly and clearly. "What differences you have can be mended with words, not with blood. Stand down now. Listen to your king."

For one long eternal moment all was still. An errant leaf detached itself from a branch high overhead and fluttered down into the water. The tone of the moment changed and a deep sigh rippled through the troops. Finally the warriors withdrew. I turned and buried my face in my father's shoulder. I could not speak. At last, my father spoke to the two who had ridden up behind him. "Galion, you are the voice to the king. Go now and find out what has happened here. Report to me within the hour. Thormor," he said to the captain general, "Find Thalion and Amondorn and see what evil is afoot. Ask them to wait for me in my office. I will take Legolas to his room and meet you there."

"No!" I cried, finding my voice, "You can't take me into the caverns! I won't go!" and I clung to him all the more fiercely.

My father renewed his hold upon me and kissed me on the brow. "So be it_, neth ben_, I don't know what has frightened you so, but I will listen to you. Let's deal with this issue on foot."

I allowed my father to ease me down to the ground, but I renewed my hold as soon as he had dismounted. He kept one arm wrapped around me and allowed me to lean upon him, for which I was grateful. We stood thus for several moments in silence and I drank in my father's presence like the warmth of the summer sun.

After a time once again there was the sound of horses' hooves. These sounded much more slowly. The four figures who emerged out of the woods were worn and dusty, exuding a weariness that blew like a dark wind across my soul. There were only three horses for the four warriors. One of the soldiers held his comrade in front of him. It seemed that they could hardly ride for exhaustion.

"Tilras," said my father as they came astride where we were standing, "Take my horse and your men to the caverns. Alert the house of healing that they will need a litter for Luinthol. Allow them to meet your needs for a time." The warrior nodded without meeting my father's eyes and the assembly made their way into the caves.

I took a deep breath and stepped back. I had forgotten that my father was coming from his own troubles. "Is he badly hurt, Ada? The one on the front of the horse?"

My father smiled at me tiredly. "We have a lot to talk about, you and I. But tell me Legolas. What has happpened since I left?"

I opened my heart to him then and told him everything that I could about finding Taenor; about serving as the Aran Nelyar; about the wine and the leap and trying to talk to Amondorn. When I told him that Taenor had been put into a dungeon he looked grim. When I told him of my own confinement I could see fury in his eyes. I held his hand as I recounted my story. I was so relieved to find someone who would listen.

Galion returned before I was done talking. I could tell that my father was weary. He asked that a chair be brought for him and some refreshment. These were set up under the trees on the south side of the bridge. Almost immediately the Laegrim began to emerge from the woods. They did not extend their hands in welcome, but stood in silent clusters beneath the boughs of the trees, staring at me with concern and sorrow. I sat at my father's feet and watched them as they stood.

"Talk to me, Galion," said my father after a time. Galion reported to him the concerns of the Laegrim, beginning with the joy of finding that I was to be Aran Nelyar. He spoke to him of the detaining of Taenor, the disappearance of Orothador. When they had learned this morning of my disappearance, they were afraid that I had been murdered and that Amondorn was taking the throne by force.

To all this, my father just nodded and listened. When Galion was done speaking, my father turned to the waiting crowd. "Is this true?" he asked the people. There was a murmur of assent. "Look to your prince," he said, indicating that I should rise. "He is among you now. You may be at odds with the Sindar, my friends, and if so it is well deserved, but come and welcome your prince who has been returned safely to you."

I stood and the people came to me and touched me and I touched them in greeting. They began to speak to me and to one another. The tension was broken and the mellifluous cadence of their voices filled the clearing. I felt as though a great storm had come and passed us by. 


	22. Chapter 23

We stayed in the clearing with the Laegrim for some time. My father rose from his chair and personally spoke to as many of his people as he could. Eventually, he was greeted and embraced. Thormor arrived and waited patiently to gain my father's attention. They spoke for a moment then my father turned to me, "We must go to the caverns now Legolas."

"But I don't want to go," I protested, "I need to be here. I am their prince."

"You are the Laegren prince, it is true," said my father, "but you are also the prince of the Sindar. They are frightened and confused. They need to see that you are well and have returned to them."

Reluctantly I said my farewells to the Laegrim. Several of the warriors offered to accompany us for protection, but my father calmly and firmly declined. Eventually we turned and walked across the bridge, my father and I, with Galion and Thormor at hand.

While my father and I had been meeting on the south side of the bridge, the warriors under Amondorn's care had not been dismissed, but had sheathed their swords and were gathered restlessly at the opening to the great caverns. Although Amondorn's troops were relatively few in number, they did form an effective barricade between us and the caves. As with the Laegrim, my father did not resort to authoritarian measures, but acknowledged their welcome as we approached them. Then he moved to greet them by name, grasping a forearm here, touching a shoulder there, always speaking in a low and comforting voice.

He did not seem to be in a hurry, but I noticed that he purposefully moved towards the back of the crowd and the entrance to the cave. I said nothing during this time, but steadied myself with a firm grasp of his hand. Thormor and Galion followed silently as well, a pace or two behind him.

We reached the cave entrance in due time and made our way to my father's office. Amondorn and Thalion were waiting. They hastily stood and bowed when my father entered the room. Amondorn was as immaculately dressed as ever, but he was tense and uncomfortable. Thalion kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye, as though for reassurance. For a moment I wanted to flee from the room to hide from the somber affect of the place, but I chose instead to stand unobtrusively against the wall near the door. I watched my father as he walked to his desk. He moved slowly, as though distracted by his thoughts. He finally eased himself down into the chair and busied himself with moving some of Amondorn's things aside. He did not invite anyone to be seated.

"Rumor has it, Amondorn," he said finally, as he stacked several books together and set them near the corner of the desk, "that you and Thalion are preparing to take over the caverns and constrain me to ruling from the woods. I see that you have already taken over my desk."

Amondorn's eyes grew wide and all color vanished from his face. "Thranduil, no!"

"That's King Thranduil, is it not?" My father's voice was low and even, "or do you forswear your allegiance to me now?"

"I do not, my lord, I only-"

My father's voice was clear, but I could tell that he was holding great anger in check. "You only expelled the Laegrim from the halls, armed the Sindar and set them to war against their comrades! I am not blind, Amondorn. When I arrived home this morning things were a hair's breadth from falling into battle! Furthermore, you disobeyed my orders to serve as the Aran Nelyar, you imprisoned two Laegrim in the dungeon and you held my son against his will under guard." He allowed his words to settle into the silence. "Do you deny it?"

"No, my lord." Amondorn lowered his eyes, and then looked pleadingly at my father, "but Thranduil, there is an uprising."

"An uprising? Of the Laegrim?"

Amondorn nodded.

"To take over the Halls and divest me of my throne?"

Amondorn nodded again.

My father leaned forward. "Do you know nothing of the Laegrim, Amondorn? For two thousand years they have been willing to be ruled by my house. Do you think that in the space of a few months there would be cause for a revolution? I just spent the last hour with my son in the midst of several hundred fully armed Laegrim. They did not detain me or kill me. Do I look dead to you? There is no uprising. There never was an uprising, unless you count this rumor that has reached me twice, now, that you seek to usurp me from my halls."

"It's not what it seems, Thranduil!"

"Enough!" roared my father. He rose to his feet and his hand slammed down on the desk. "There is nothing more to be said! Thormor," he spoke more quietly, "please escort Amondorn to the dungeon. We will deal with him later."

In the silence that followed, I wondered for a moment if Amondorn were going to faint. He swayed on his feet. He looked almost as though he were going to speak, then he shook his walked over to Amondorn and put a hand on his shoulder. Without a word the two left the room. My father sat down heavily and rubbed his face with his hand. I could tell that he was weary.

"Thalion," he said at last, "Where does your allegiance lie?"

"With you, my lord." The captain's voice was hardly more than a whisper.

My father looked at Thalion for a moment, as though to judge him. "Then follow my orders. I want the Sindar disarmed, save for the normal patrols for the caverns. Their duty for the day is put this place to rights. Send someone for Taenor and Orothador. Bring them here at once."

Thalion bowed and left, shutting the door behind him. My father turned the chair and extended his legs. He stretched his arms wide and then let them drop. "Shades, but I'm done for," he exclaimed. "Galion I'd give a mithril crown for a warm bath and some clean clothes, but we aren't done yet." He sat up. "I haven't forgotten you either, Legolas. Why don't you get a chair from the table and come and sit by me? I think this next bit won't be so bad."

Cautiously, I came from my place. I did not want to make my father angry, but his actions disturbed me. I was upset with Amondorn, but the dungeon sounded like a terrible place to be sent. Slowly, I dragged one of the chairs over to where my father sat. At first I tried to sit like he was sitting, but my legs weren't long enough. I finally sat cross legged and put my hands in my lap. My father saw what I was doing and smiled. "Tell me, ion nin," he asked gently, "What were you doing on that bridge when I rode up?"

I squirmed. Perhaps I would be given harsh judgment as well. "I escaped from my room," I said quietly, trying to look him bravely in the eye, "I thought if I could find my way free that maybe I could get Amondorn to listen to the Laegrim so that they wouldn't need to fight." I dropped my gaze. "It didn't work out that way."

The King saw my discomfort and put a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him. His eyes were piercing and intent with a glimmer of pride. "You thought you could stop the fighting yourself? That was a bold move, Thranduilion. Now tell me about your escape. How did you find your way out?"

I wanted to answer, but I didn't want to get anyone else in trouble. "Do you promise not to send anyone else to the dungeon if I tell you?" I asked.

"I promise," said the King soberly, "unless it is truly warranted."

I paused. That was not quite the response I had hoped for. I got down off the chair and stood right next to the King. I cupped my hands over his ear and whispered, "There is a secret tunnel that leads from our chambers to the other side of the mountain. Orothador learned of it from Aegliriel who knew of it from my mother."

The king grasped my hands and examined the wounded fingertips. His eyebrows rose and he looked directly at me. "So Orothador thought that you needed to escape, eh?"

"Orothador said that he feared for my safety. He actually came to set me free, but he got caught. That's why he's in the dungeon," I explained. "I escaped later, but I hurt my hands because I needed to feel the walls of the tunnel on the way out." I pulled my hands from his and set them behind my back. "I'm not hurt too badly, Ada. I promise."

"We'll see to that soon," my father promised, "Does anyone else know about the tunnel?"

"Only Ereglin," I said, "but he didn't know that I was going to escape by myself. I slid out really quietly and he didn't wake up. The tunnel is a secret, I know it is. I promise I won't tell anybody about it."

Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Galion crossed the room and ushered in Orothador and Taenor. They both looked worn. They bowed before my father. Taenor looked pale and stunned. Orothador was not so badly off, but he was restless like a caged wildcat. His eyes met mine. They were dark and humorless. He turned his attention to my father and spoke without being given leave, "I am glad to see that you are well, King Thranduil. There are plans at work to do you harm. It is believed that Amondorn –"

My father held up his hand, "Enough, Orothador. Amondorn is in the dungeon. His scheme, if there ever was one, has been put to rest. His concerns, on the other hand, were that there was an uprising planned on the part of the Laegrim. He usually errs on the side of caution." he paused, "I've only begun to see what may have led him to conclude that a revolution was imminent. Perhaps you could help with that? As I came in, several Sindarin warriors were warning me of an ancient ceremony they saw with stone knives and blue body paint?"

Orothador looked down and licked his lips.

"Orothador, what did you perform on the terrace?"

"Eh, well, it was the _uruvae_."

"Orothador, exactly how many warriors participated?"

"Two score," said Orothador promptly.

My fathers eyebrows lifted and his eyes widened. "You danced the _uruvae_ in broad daylight, on the terrace with two score warriors, knowing that Amondorn would see you? Why, pray tell, would you do something like that? Did it occur to you that Amondorn might feel threatened by it? How would he know what the dance was about?" my father rubbed his forehead with his hand.

"By the stars, he's your advisor, King Thranduil!" responded Orothador, barely veiling the disgust in his voice, "How could he not know what the dance was about? For too many years he has hidden in the caverns like a rabbit in a hole. He helps guide the kingdom, but his heart is not with us. He does not understand the Laegrim and refuses to learn!" Orothador leaned forward earnestly. "Look what he did to Taenor, to myself, and to your son! Yes, we danced the _uruvae_, not to anger him, but to help him to see that we are a proud people who will not allow the rule of the Aran Nelyar to be gainsayed. His mind is closed. He does not know how to listen."

The two men gazed at one another. At last my father dropped his eyes and nodded, "What you say is true, Orothador, and yet he has served this kingdom well since before I was born. I don't think that any malice was involved, but, if there is justice to be served for his wrongdoings I will see it done. He will stand trial, in front of the council if need be."

"He did not offend the members of the council, King Thranduil. He offended the Laegrim and abducted our prince. He must come to the fire of the people in humbleness and accept the consequences for his actions. Only then will this brokenness be mended."

My father looked at Orothador. "Let me talk to him. Humbleness is not Amondorn's best virtue, but there is merit in what you say. I trust the Fire of the People, Orothador, but he may not."

Orothador bowed.

My father turned to his steward, "Galion, see to Orothador's needs, then I'd like the two of you to return to the woods. Tell them that Amondorn is detained in the dungeon. He will come to the Fire of the People, although I can't speak to his attitude. Invite them to return to the keep when they are ready." He turned again to Orothador, "I owe you my thanks, Orothador, for risking your life to save my son. If you have any need, let it be known and I will do my best to fulfill it."

Orothador walked over to where I was standing and his eyes met mine. "Simply tell me that you are well, little brother, and my needs will be met."

"I am fine," I said. I stepped forward and extended my hands in welcome, "Well, I hurt my fingers a little bit, but really I am well."

Orothador took my hands and leaned over and kissed me on the brow. "Then I am content," he said.

When the door shut behind them, only Taenor, my father and I were in the room. Taenor looked quite nervous standing before the king after everyone had left. He looked around as though seeking support. "Taenor," my father said at last, "I understand that you brought wine to the Midsummer and traded it to Cumarad. Is that true?"

Taenor looked down and nodded, "Yes, my lord."

"Had you not traded that wine, Cumarad would not have fallen, and we might well have avoided this whole sorry situation. Do you understand what that one miserable bottle of wine has done? We very nearly had a battle because of your momentary lapse in judgment! You are a danger to my people, Taenor, not to mention a danger to yourself. Do you make a habit of breaking the law?"

"No sire, not on purpose anyways, and if it helps can I tell you how very sorry I am. I didn't mean any harm."

"It is not enough to have good intentions! Not meaning to do harm does not eliminate the consequences of your actions. I must be able to count on my people to watch out for one another and not lead each other into danger. I have a warrior in the healing house right now because he had good intentions, but he disobeyed orders. He fell into the enemy's hands and it took nearly a week to rescue him. A week! He may well lose his life as it is." All at once my father was silent and lost in thought for a moment. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, "I'm sorry," he said eventually, "That really doesn't concern you." He paused. "My judgement Taenor, is that you give up trading and settle in a nearby village where we can keep an eye on you for a few _ennin_. There you would learn the importance of keeping the law!"

Taenor clasped his hands together and bowed his head. He looked miserable.

"Fortunately for you," continued my father, "I was not _Aran Nelyar_ for the Midsummer this year, Legolas was and, as Orothador so graciously pointed out, the will of the Aran Nelyar must not be gainsayed. You are dismissed to clean yourself up and find something to eat at the kitchen. I expect you to report to Heledirn and Cumarad within the hour. Your tenure here will be indefinite; only Legolas can release you from your tasks when they are completed. Do I make myself clear?"

Taenor looked at my father and then looked at me. He bowed deeply and for once seemed to have nothing to say. He bowed again and then turned and left the room.

After all the turmoil of the morning, the silence was a relief. The room seemed large and empty. I walked over to my father. "Who is he?" I asked.

"Who is who, Legolas?"

"The one who disobeyed. The one who may not live," I responded.

My father grasped my hands, "You are too full of questions, _nethben_. These hands need tending. Let's go to the healing house and see to them."

-0-0-

The healing house smelled of spices and a pungent antiseptic used to keep things very clean. The healers were quite happy to see my father and thanked him profusely for averting the bloodshed that would have overwhelmed their small facility. Mainid helped me with my hands. She sat me on a high table and looked at them carefully.

"You say this was done by the rough walls of the caverns?" she asked, "Why ever didn't you stop when they started to bleed?" I shrugged. The healer shook her head in dismay, then drew a bowl of water from the pot heating on the fire and gently washed my wounds with a soft cloth. She slathered them with a pungent salve that she took from a jar, and bandaged them carefully, one finger at a time. When she was done my fingers looked like they were wearing odd little hats. There would be no way to climb trees with the bandages on. The healer caught me looking to my father for support.

"Leave them on long enough for the salve to do its work," she admonished, "and come again tomorrow."

Carefully, I hopped down from the table.

Ereglin met us at as we stepped off the wide veranda of the healing house. He nearly knocked me over with his greeting. He embraced me and then held me by my shoulders. "By the stars, Legolas, you had me frightened! When I woke up and you were gone, I thought that Amondorn had taken you away. Why did you leave without telling me? I would have come with you, you should know that by now. Eh, but it's good to see you!" he stopped and stared at my hands, then he hissed through his teeth. "You are injured, my lord. I should have been with you. It is my job."

"It is your job, Boronelion," said my father sternly. Ereglin looked at him startled. I think he had forgotten that he was there. My father chuckled, "but then Galion always throws a fit when I slip away unnoticed, so I imagine you're entitled. It's nice to hear someone else getting the lecture for a change."

As we turned to resume our walk I felt like my whole body was soaking in the beauty of the day. It was hot; the brilliant midday sun caused the air to ripple up from the gravel. The sky was as blue as music – I could have sung the color if I'd been asked, and the greens on the trees were rich and vibrant as they are at midsummer. With the outdoors restored to me, my father at home, and Ereglin at my side I felt quite content.

I was casting about for a song to sing when a soft keening reached my ears. I looked to my father and Ereglin, but they did not seem to hear it. It vanished for a moment, then began again much louder. Someone deep in the healing halls was screaming. They sounded as though they were in pain or afraid.

I stopped. My father looked at me and I returned his gaze, "Who is that?" I asked.

"It is the wounded warrior crying, Legolas," he said. "Let the healers tend to him. There is nothing we can do." He gently took my hand and led me purposefully away.

0-0-0-0-0

_That's all for this week. It has been so delightful to hear from so many of you. Sincerest thanks to those I've heard from. If you haven't sent feedback yet, feel free. It truly feeds the muse!_


	23. Chapter 24

As soon as we returned to the caverns, my father was beset by a number of guards and servants all wanting to greet him and gain some direction for restoring order to the keep. Galion and I were with him for most of the time, so there was really little opportunity to talk to him privately. Late in the afternoon the numbers finally dwindled and my father withdrew to his room to bathe and take rest from his journey. I spent that time with Ereglin. After the events of recent days, he was eager to look in on his family, so after a bit I assured him that I was well and sent him to his family to return in the morning.

My father and I took an early supper together in a large dining room with a number of Sindar from the Keep. As the meal progressed, I realized that I had gotten to know only a small portion of them. Many of the Sindar served in administrative duties and had little cause to get to know a small person like myself. I had no idea that there were so many people who were needed to run a community the size of Thranduil's Halls. I grew a little weary of the number who wanted to greet my father and welcome him home. In all this, the King was relaxed, and seemed to enjoy himself. He did not prod me to speak, but he made sure that my plate was filled with things that I liked to eat.

When at last the company had departed, he turned to me and said "There is a place that I go when I return from my journeys to calm myself and remember that I am home. I'd like to take you there tonight, if you'd like to come."

"Is it high in a tree?" I asked, thinking of my poor fingers.

My father smiled, "Not in a tree," he replied, "but it is very high up. I've got a couple more things to do before day's end, but if you will meet me by the birches at the back of the training ground in about an hour we will spend some time together this evening."

I looked forward to having my father all to myself. I could not bear to wait in my room. Actually, I went to the training ground directly after supper. As I ran across the deserted gravel I remembered the wounded warrior and my steps slowed. I would have to walk by the healing house to get to the birches and I was afraid that I might hear the screaming again. At first I thought to walk past the veranda without stopping.

Then it occurred to me that Cumarad might welcome a visitor. Surely he had heard the screaming as well. He might have some insights for me. Cautiously I climbed the stairs to the healing house. There were no healers in sight. The door to Cumarad's room was ajar. I considered knocking for a moment, but it was much simpler to just walk in and surprise him.

I was the one who was surprised. The room was empty. The bed was still there, of course, but it was neatly made as though nobody had slept in it. The tables were clear of the clutter that is often found on a sickbed table, and there were no clothes hanging on the pegs. I looked around. Cumarad had vanished without a trace.

He had seemed to be doing well when I had seen him last. I wondered if perhaps they had moved him to another room. A short inspection revealed that the rest of the veranda rooms were empty as well. I considered the possibility that perhaps there were other rooms deeper within the house of healing. A long hallway led from the back of the veranda into the interior. I didn't know if I needed permission to walk within, but there was nobody to ask, and I did want to find Cumarad.

There were doors flanking the corridor on both sides. My boots hushed softly on the wooden floor as I walked past them. The air was cooler in the hallway but it carried on it the taint of some foul odor. The smell grew more pronounced as I progressed, but I had caught sight of another open door and my curiosity got the best of me. Slowly I edged my way to the open door and gently pushed it open. The smell was much stronger and I recognized it as the foul smell of darkness that had lingered about my father when he'd been bitten by the spider. I wrinkled my nose and peered into the room.

It was a room for an invalid, with a bed, a table and a simple chair. At first I thought that the bed was empty, save for a bundle of cloth in the center. Then I made out the shape of a foot and a head. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I recognized the warrior who had been held upon the horse by his comrade. He looked terrible. His face was gaunt, great dark circles were under his eyes. His dark brown hair was badly tangled and he rested half off of the pillow. He was wearing a night shirt, but it was badly torn. His hands were not still but frantically worked the edges of the torn cloth plucking and pulling at loose threads. He was looking at a space near the foot of the bed and I could hear his labored breathing.

Curiosity got the better of me. "Mae govenan," I said gently, taking a cautious step into the room. The figure did not move, but he breathed more rapidly. "I didn't mean to disturb you," I said quietly. I would have turned to leave then, but suddenly he moved and looked at a space behind me. His eyes were large and shone darkly in the dim light, but they didn't seem to see me. He pulled at the threads of the cloth more fretfully. I could see his body tense. He opened his mouth as though to speak. For a few moments he tried vainly to form words with his lips. Only a timid whimper came out.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked quietly. For a moment he did not respond, then his whimpering grew louder and more insistent. He was frightened, and his fear and pain rolled into my heart. I wanted to leave but he seemed desperate to communicate with me. I found myself wanting to hold his frenzied hands and make them be still.

I chewed on my lower lip. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. A song, I thought. Perhaps I could calm him with a song. I licked my lips and began singing one of the growing songs that Nathel had taught me when I was very young. It was a simple song.

There was a sharp intake of breath. For a moment I thought all was well. Then he threw back his head and screamed The scream welled from the very center of his being. His back was arched and his limbs were rigid. The sound that was pulled from his reluctant body held a jagged edge of darkness that spilled into my ears and into my very soul. Such pain! Such frantic need and such pain! I covered my ears and fell to my knees and cried out. Then the darkness rolled over me and I began to weep uncontrollably.

It was not long before strong arms embraced me and I was taken from the room. I lost consciousness for a time. When I came to myself I was in Cumarad's room, lying on the carefully made bed. My ears woke up before my eyes did and I heard two voices.

"He will wake soon, and then we shall see if the darkness lingers." That was the voice of a healer.

A hand rested on my brow. "Legolas, open your eyes." That was my father. I struggled to obey.

"I am fine," I murmured, although I knew that I was lying. I felt empty and worn out.

I lay passively while my father smoothed my hair and spoke to me quietly. "You have a knack for going where you ought not, _nethben_," he was saying somberly. "I think you will be fine, but it will take a little while."

I closed my eyes and revisited the wounded warrior. My memories were dark and filled with discord and fear. "What will happen to him, Ada?" I asked. Is there nothing we can do?"

"He was with the darkness for a full week, Legolas. The darkness has entered his heart and there is nothing I can do that will redeem him."

"Will he die?" I asked.

My father nodded. "If fate is kind, it will happen soon."

"He isn't that old," I said, remembering the sorrowful face of the elf.

"He reached majority five years ago," said my father with a deep sigh, "This was his first patrol. We were deep in the woods that have been overrun by the darkness. We had done well and killed many orcs and dark creatures, but in the middle of a skirmish I saw that reinforcements were arriving for the orcs. I called retreat, but Luinthol saw an opportunity to kill several orcs and he stayed to see it done. He was captured. It took four days to find him and another three to set him free. We nearly lost two warriors in the effort. By the time we found him his body was battered and his soul lost to the darkness."

"Is there nothing we can do?" I asked again.

My father shook his head sadly. "He was too long shrouded in darkness. He can no longer tolerate light or song. That coupled with the pain of the torture he has suffered - it is too much for even a warrior to endure. It will not be long now before his soul will be released from his body and his _fea_ will travel to the House of Mandos."

I turned my head and blinked. I didn't want my father to know that I was crying. The whole thing seemed so hurtful and unfair.

"Legolas," my father was saying, "Do you think you could sit up now?"

I nodded and rolled to a sitting position. My head felt funny, as though I'd been sleeping for hours and my heart felt drenched in filth and unsavory sensations. I shook my head to clear things up. "How do I get the darkness to go away?" I asked.

"It will diminish with time," said the healer, "You were not exposed for long, although you've had no training in keeping the darkness at bay. Take a walk tonight and savor the beauty that you find. For you, time and the bounty of Ivon will go far in releasing the darkness of the necromancer."

I nodded. Savoring the out of doors was something I longed to do anyways. "Can we still walk to your special place, Ada?" I asked "I would really like that."

My father's eyes were worried even as he smiled, "Come then," he said, "I'll show it to you."

The last bit of daylight lingered in the sky as we walked to the birches. Thankfully the moon was only a few days past full and had already begun its ascent from the eastern sky. The birds had almost finished their evening song. I heard the uneven melody of the cardinals and a late goldfinch give way to the song of the nightingale as we walked.

"You are not dressed like a king tonight." I observed. My father had nothing but a loose shirt on, open at the collar. His braids were few and simple.

"For tonight I am not the king, but simply Thranduil your father," he replied.

"Then I will be your son." I answered. I swiftly pulled off my embroidered tunic and took off my boots. The gravel felt sharp and real under my feet. The darkness still shrouded my thoughts and I breathed deeply of the evening air to dispel it.

Without another word, my father turned and began walking up a narrow trail that led into the mountains. I felt secure in his silence and followed him gladly. At first we wound between the generous boughs of the large limber pines, but as we continued our ascent the trees grew farther apart and the path was disrupted by stony outcroppings. We passed several boulders as we walked, but my father didn't slow or take his rest. Eventually I was breathing heavily, but my father seemed unwinded by the climb. Finally we came to a stony field of fallen rock.

We had made our way around the west side of the mountain and were nearing the place where we could overlook the valley beneath my bedroom. At this point my father began choosing a careful path among the rocks. I caught my breath and followed him for a time, but then I began leaping from rock to rock, easily making my way across the field. My father eventually caught up with me on the other side and grinned at me. I think he was happy that I could best him in at least part of the climb.

The summit of the mountain was solid rock, unmarred by vegetation or trees. The light of the moon made the stone glow grey. It was bright enough that the rocks cast dark shadows as we climbed. I was concerned at first that the rocks would tear off the bandages from my fingers, but I needn't have worried. The climb was almost easy enough to do without using my hands.

I would have thought, as we climbed, that our view would be shrouded in darkness, but after we reached the summit I looked around. Looking to the north into the range of mountains I could see the solid bulk of many peaks arrayed behind one another like folds in a cloth. Those nearby were soft and grey in the last remnants of daylight. They disappeared into layers of progressively deeper shadow in the distance. It seemed strange to me then that the darkness of the land should be so beautiful while the Darkness that still lingered in my heart was so foreboding.

I pulled myself onto a wide flat rock at the summit and sat with my legs pulled up to my chest. Eventually, I extended my legs and pulled back my shoulders and lifted my chin. I forced myself to sing a song of balance and strength. At first the words didn't want to come. I could feel them pressing against the darkness, but after a few minutes of singing it was as though a gate opened and my singing was restored to me. I stood then, and sang from my heart of the sunset, of the trees and the rocks and of the darkness, both the benign and the hurtful. I sang for Luinthol and tears rolled down my cheeks. I grieved for his life and I grieved for his pain, and I grieved that nothing could be done.

When I was done singing, the light of the sun was fully gone from the sky and the light of the moon shone brilliantly from its place. I became aware again of my father who was waiting in silence for me to find my balance and I considered his love and was comforted.

After a time, my father leaned back on his elbows and stretched his long legs in front of him. I could sense that he was savoring the moonlight, allowing it to calm and unwind the tensions that had marked the day. He did not sing, but he did relax. When he spoke I felt that I was speaking to the person, not the king or my father.

"I am glad you came here tonight, Legolas. Does the moonlight feed you as it feeds me?"

"Yes," I nodded, "It's good to breathe the night air without worrying. Last night I was so thirsty and so weary, but not tonight."

"Has the darkness left your heart?"

"It is better." I sat quietly for a moment "Ada?" I asked, wondering, but not wanting the silence to be broken, "what is it like in the south?" I had visions of Luinthol falling amidst trees shrouded in darkness overcome by screaming of orcs and dark creatures. My father's answer surprised me.

"It is beautiful, Legolas. The corner of the woods where we were fighting is one of the oldest parts of the woods. Some places there have seldom known the laughter of an elf. The trees are huge there, and majestic. They lord over the undergrowth and are very sparing in allowing new trees to grow. It would be easy to get lost there, but for the paths that the deer have made. Some of the paths are centuries old. When you walk beneath the trees it is as though you are in a great cavern with a canopy of green overhead. The sounds of life offer a hushed melody and there is no sound louder than your breathing or the sound of your heart beating in your breast. When I go there, I know that I am walking on sacred ground."

"But aren't the orcs there?"

"They are there, but they do not belong. They are like the wood moths. They infest the trees but they are never part of the trees. The woods may be blighted by the Darkness, Legolas, but their hearts are still strong and proud. They stand against the darkness but they cannot dispel it on their own. That is the calling of the elves. The wood elves especially have taken the woods into their hearts. They will not leave them or forsake them so long as a single tree remains standing. I grieve that Luinthol gave his life killing the enemy, but I would not argue his choice. There are three fewer orcs destroying the forest because of his work, and for that I must be grateful."

"You say that the wood elves especially care for the woods. Don't the Sindar fight as well? They don't seem to go in the woods as much as the Laegrim. They are nice, but they are hard to talk to."

My father chuckled, "Some of our best fighters are Sindarin," he said, "and they are different from the Laegrim, although no one will admit it." He paused for a moment and looked at the stars. "The Sindar fight because it is their duty to the trees, Legolas. The Laegrim fight because they share their lives with the trees."

We sat for silence for a time, and I must have fallen asleep. When I woke again the moon had set and the stars were fading in the east. Far below us I could hear the birds beginning their morning song. I felt calm and well rested and clean in my heart. A night under the open sky was a gift to my soul. 


	24. Chapter 25

The peacefulness from my evening under the stars lasted well into the next morning. My father was called back to his papers and consulting. I made my way to the kitchen to await Ereglin's return.

"Legolas!" Taenor looked up from where he was cutting cabbage. "Heledirn has said he'll allow me to help cook today. Not all of the Laegrim are back at work, so there is a need that I'll be happy to fill."

I grinned, "It's good to see you so willing to help, Taenor," I said, "but what happened to Cumarad? He's not at the healing house."

Taenor stopped slicing wedges as he spoke. "When Amondorn gave the command to move people to safety, we moved him here to a room off the pantry, Heledirn wasn't so happy, but it was a good thing for me since I can tend to Cumarad's needs and still be a help in the kitchen. Things are looking up for me, Legolas, they surely are."

Heledirn approached me, wiping his hands on his apron. "We've got no fish for you this morning, young prince, but Selediel did bring some fresh bread over not ten minutes ago. Wait and I'll see if there are some honey cakes in there for you." He pulled a mug from a shelf and quickly prepared me some tea. I took the mug and sat down at my customary place at the table. A basket filled with honey cakes was soon forthcoming and I happily indulged in several of them.

I would have been quite content to stay in the kitchen all morning, but the outdoors beckoned. Grabbing a fourth honey cake to eat on the way out, I excused myself and made a beeline for the large maple tree. Quickly I divested my fingers from the bandages that remained and made my way to a favorite branch. From my vantage point I could see most of the shops of the keep as well as the great stone bridge that marked the entrance to the halls.

The tension and odd activities that had marked the keep for the previous few days was notably absent. Tradesmen went about their business. Visitors came and went freely. The harmony of the Halls of Thranduil had been restored. I licked a few wayward crumbs from my lips and climbed even higher in the tree. The branches were slender near the top, and I needed to hang on tightly, but I loved the feeling of swaying in the wind. I felt like a great bird come to rest for awhile in the boughs of the tree. I turned towards the river and sang a song of morning joy. I looked towards the yard and sang a song of sturdy work. I turned towards the kitchen and sang a funny song of Taenor cooking in the kitchen. I turned towards the practice field and the song died on my lips I could just see the roof of the healing house from my place in the tree. I knew that Luinthol was there and that he would never sing again. Sober and silent I watched the healing house from my perch. There was nothing to be done my father had said, but my young heart rebelled at the thought. All at once I had an inspiration.

I scampered down the tree as quickly as I could and ran into the caverns. Hardly slowing to let my eyes get used to the darkness, I ran down one corridor and up and around another, not stopping until Talagand's door came into sight. I could only hope that he was in.

"Talagand! Talagand!" I cried, knocking on his door. The sounds of the harp ceased and in a few moments the door was opened. Talagand looked down upon me with grave concern. "What is it Legolas? Has something happened?"

"Yes, something has happened," I said, "Luinthol was captured by the orcs and darkness has filled his heart. The King says that he will die, but you can't let that happen."

"Why don't you come in and tell me more," said Talagand, opening the door fully to let me in. He took a seat and indicated that I should sit as well, but I could not.

"You don't understand, Talagand. When I was young I learned that there is a song for all the brokenness of the world. Istuilalf the Avor told me this. I haven't learned them all yet, but you have so many songs in your books and scrolls. You must have a song for healing the darkness here somewhere. We need to find it and sing it for Luinthol. He will die without it."

For a long minute Talagand looked at me. He reached out and took my hands. "Legolas, when were you first made aware of the darkness?"

"When I was coming here," I replied, "When the crebain flew over my head. I felt the darkness then."

"Your father has been fighting darkness for a thousand years," he said, "Don't you think that if there was a song for Luinthol he would know of it? Don't you think that if there were a song for Luinthol I would know of it? And yet in this case the darkness stands. I know of no songs for this, Legolas."

I looked at him, open mouthed in despair. "But Istuilalf said," I began.

"He was probably speaking in metaphor, Legolas. There is a song for everything, but Luinthol's song has come to a place where it will pass into Mandos' care." He squeezed my hands, "Little Prince, his time with us is done."

I cried out in dismay. Talagand rose to embrace me. I leaned for a moment into his embrace, then I stepped back from his hold. "I need to see him again," I said. "He can't just die like that. I need to see him again." I believed Talagand, but I was not yet ready to let go of Luinthol. The warrior had done nothing wrong. It was so unfair that he should die.

At first Talagand tried to prevent me from visiting Luinthol, but eventually he saw that I would not be dissuaded. At last he took me by the hand and we made our way to the healing house.

The healers were not willing for me to see the warrior. Word had gotten around that I had fainted at the last encounter and no one was willing to endure the wrath of the King if it should happen again. At first Talagand stood up for me, but in the end he was overruled.

"If I can't see him, at least tell me how he is," I begged.

"The darkness is still with him," said one of the healers regretfully, "He refuses all food and water and there is a great pain in his head that causes him to scratch at his face and gouge his skin. He has had to be restrained. He is afraid to be touched and yet he craves the comfort of others. We are staying by his side constantly now."

"Does he have a family to be with him?" I asked, knowing how important family would be to me in that situation.

The healer bowed, "A messenger has been sent, but their village is deep in the south. They will not be able to get here in time. They will grieve their loss at home."

I wanted to ask more, but the air was rent by a whimpering cry and we were left to find our own way out.

Talagand and I left the house of healing and walked across the training grounds. The day was brilliant and beautiful and it was hard to believe the deep suffering that was transpiring only a few strides away.

Ereglin met us as we entered the caverns. He saw my discouragement and put his arm around my shoulders. I told him in as few words as possible about the situation.

"I'm sorry that this is something you have to face, Legolas," he said at length. "Perhaps your father could advise you better. I have no words to offer."

Talagand left us then, and we went in search of the King. At first we found him in his office, but the guards would not let us pass. Later, after Ereglin and I had spent a distracted hour or two collecting rocks by the river, we returned to the office, only to find that he was seeing people in the throne room. Again, we were told to wait. We went for a long walk then, and with every step I could only think of Luinthol lying in the dark waiting for death to take him. I had no eyes for the beauty of the day.

It was well into the evening before I found my father. After supper I had dismissed Ereglin. He was a good friend to have nearby, but I had had enough of comfort. I needed to do something, but I did not know what. At first I walked to the tree in the yard, but then I realized that I didn't really want to climb it. Almost of their own volition, my feet took me towards the healing house.

The sun was low on the horizon and the shadows were long across the gravel of the training grounds. The sky was a fiery red with brilliant clouds floating in the west. I wondered as I walked if this might be the last sunset of Luinthol's life in Middle-earth. I wondered how soon it would be until he died. It occurred to me then that I should rest in the fact that he would not stay in Mandos' Halls forever. Elves would live forever, or so I had been told. It occurred to me then that my mother had never returned. I dared to wonder for the first time if she ever would.

There was nobody on the veranda when I arrived. I got halfway down the hallway when I was stopped by a healer. It was Mainid and she looked at me sternly. "I thought we made it clear that this was no place for you, my lord."

I straightened my shoulders, "I have not been forbidden to be here by my father and he has given me leave to be anywhere within his domain." I replied, "I need to see Luinthol."

Unexpectedly, Mainid reached out her hand, "I'll take you to the King," she said, "and he will decide." I was prepared to protest and refuse to leave the house of healing, but then it seemed that she was leading me further down the corridor, so I submitted to her guidance. We got to the door of Luinthol's room and she opened the door and nudged me to go within.

There in the dim light, sitting in a chair next to the motionless figure, was my father. Luinthol was lying very still. His hands were bound with wide cloths and had stopped moving. His face was gaunt. It was covered with deep scratches. His eyes were half closed, the pupils were rolled up out of sight. His mouth was opened slightly. My father held one of the slender fingered hands in his hand. There was no whimpering, no sound except for Luinthol's shallow breathing interrupted every now and again by a tremor as though he had been crying and was trying to stop.

My father turned as I entered the room and said not a word; the weary grieving in his eyes said it all. Silently I came to stand at my father's side. I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to offer what little comfort I could. In the dim light I could see the traces of tears on my father's face.

My father reached up and covered my hand with his free hand. "It won't be long now, Legolas. He is too weak to fight the darkness."

I wanted to tell my father what Istuilalf had said. I wanted to wake up and let it all be over. I didn't understand how the darkness could be so cruel. I wanted to weep and cry and rage, but all I could do is stand beside my father and watch Luinthol breathe.

How long we stood thus, I cannot say.

Istuilalf had told me that there was a song for every brokenness, and he had taught me many songs, but I knew that there were songs, deep songs, that only Istuilalf knew. He had taught me one song, to be sure, but that was to free the fea from grieving. It was a simple song meant to bring tears to the eyes. And yet, I mused, it was a deep song.

I pulled my hand from my father's hand and walked closer to Luinthol. I don't know why, but I knew that I needed to touch him. For a moment I chewed on my lower lip, unsure as to how to proceed. Then cautiously I place one hand on his chest and one hand on his brow. He felt so thin and frail beneath my touch! I closed my eyes and I began to sing the deep song of sorrows released.

The odd syllables fell from my lips quite awkwardly at first, but then I took a balancing breath and they began to flow. I sang in a minor key to echo the sorrow and discord in the broken body beneath me. At first nothing happened. Then Luinthol began to breathe more deeply and I matched my own breathing to his. I only knew part of the deep song, but what I did know I was able to sing over and over.

As I sang I became aware of a great body of darkness beneath my hands. It had weight and texture like the carcass of a heavy beast left to decay in the woods. I wrinkled my nose at the smell, but I didn't stop singing. My hands were firmly placed on Luinthol's body, yet I felt as though I had other hands that could push the rotting darkness to the side. I took a deep breath and began pushing, taking care to keep on singing. The darkness didn't want to give way and I pushed harder and harder until I could feel rivulets of sweat trickle from my brow. The darkness moved a little. I sang louder. It moved again and I pushed some more. The syllables fell from my lips unheeded. It took all of my concentration to push on the darkness. I pushed until I felt all of my muscles weak from the strain. And then, as though suddenly released from its bonds, the darkness moved just a little and began to slide away. And still I sang and sang and sang. Every time the darkness moved I changed keys and began the song again.

Finally Luinthol gasped and arched beneath my hands. He screamed then, but it was a scream of release, not of torment. He fell back on the bed and began to weep uncontrollably. The darkness wavered and then slowly vanished as though it had never been. My body was trembling so hard that I could not stand. I fell across Luinthol's body and felt his heartbeat beneath me. I kept on singing, but the song was coming in gasps. I could sing no longer I could stand no longer. I breathed deeply and slid to the floor.

There was no sound in the room, save for the sound of Luinthol weeping. My father scooped me from the floor and embraced me.

"I knew there was a song, Ada," I said at last, "I knew there was a song."

Mainid stepped forward and gently released Luinthol from his bonds. She washed his face and hands and my father helped him to take a little water. During this time he was calm and relaxed, although very weak. At last, he rolled onto his side and fell fast asleep.

"Hannon le," he murmured, just as he drifted off.

I was not forgotten. As soon as Luinthol was asleep Manid led us to another room. I sat on a chair while she made up a cup of tea with some strong herbs. I felt rather dizzy and worn out and incredibly tired.

"Where did you learn that song?" my father asked, when he saw that I had recovered a bit.

"It's a Deep Song." I replied, "Istuilalf the Avor taught it to Brethilas and me. It is a song for grieving. It makes the listener cry."

"I think rather it is a song for purging the soul," responded my father, "I have never seen the like. How did you happen to be there for Luinthol? I would have thought you'd had your share of darkness."

"I had to come and try the song," I said simply, "I didn't want Luinthol to die."

My father took my hands and kissed my forehead. "You've done well, Legolas Thranduilion. You have done very well indeed."

The walk back to the caverns seemed miles long. My knees felt weak as though they would buckle beneath me. My father supported me as I walked, but did not offer to carry me. For that I was grateful. The weariness in my body was nothing compared to the joy in my soul. On my own I had done something right and Luinthol would recover. It was a sweet reward and I savored it in my heart.

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I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter. 


	25. Chapter 26

Let me know if this works for you. . .

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I was encouraged at how readily Luinthol emerged from the Darkness. The first day he was quiet and drowsy when I visited and I thought for a time that perhaps my song had not been that effective. On the next day, though, when Ereglin and I arrived, Luinthol had been moved to one of the sunny veranda rooms. He was sitting with his back against a stack of pillows and his dark hair was braided. He wore a nightshirt of pale green. His face was slowly loosing that haunted look and his grey eyes looked rested and calm.

"_Mae govenan_," he greeted me as I entered the room, "I'd get up and bow to you properly, but Mainid has yet to give me permission to be out of bed." His voice was warm and bright and moved with the lilting cadence of one from the villages.

"Don't bother yourself," I responded. "I've brought you something. Sedeliel makes the best bread and she's sent me with two butter rolls for you. I asked her if she could send some honey cakes, but she said maybe tomorrow." I produced the two rolls and put them on Luinthol's bedside table. "Is there anything else we can bring you?"

"Only good health quickly," said Luinthol, "I need to get back to my company as soon as possible."

"You would go back and fight after what you've been through?" exclaimed Ereglin.

"I would go back and fight because of what I've been through," said Luinthol decisively. "The Darkness must be removed from the woods, and I aim to do my part. Besides, save for Celduin the Sinda, I'm just about the best swordsman in my company. My comrades depend on me and I need to be with them."

"How long will you be here?" I asked.

Luinthol sighed, "At least a fortnight, or so Mainid says. I hope to prove her wrong."

"We'll have to visit you often," I said. "Ereglin tells the best stories and I can bring you some of the rocks that we collect from the stream."

Luinthol smiled. "That would be welcome," he said, "but perhaps you'd be willing to tell me what goes on here at Thranduil's Halls. I hear things but these windows are too high for me to see out of properly. What would I see if I were allowed outside?"

Ereglin and I spend the next half hour or so talking to Luinthol about the happenings at the Keep. In turn, he entertained us with stories of his little brother and sister. His brother was about my age and always into mischief. I had to laugh at some of the predicaments he got himself into.

"I'd like to meet him, someday," I said at last.

Luinthol grinned, "I think you'd get along quite well, Legolas. He's hoping to become a warrior like our father, so perhaps he will visit the Keep for his training."

After a time, it was clear that Luinthol was ready to rest. I was not eager to go, but I found myself looking forward to our next visit.

A thunderstorm rolled through that night, and when I woke in the morning the air was clean and crisp. The curtain covered door between my room and my father's had been kept open since my father's return, and I eagerly scampered into his room for breakfast. He seemed sincerely delighted to have me with him, and took great interest learning all the events that happened in his absence. I took special care to avoid talking about Amondorn. I wasn't sure that I ever wanted to read or write again, and I didn't want my father to think that he needed to secure me another teacher right away. Talagand, on the other hand, had become one of my favorite people and I was happy to show my father some of the funny postures and breathing exercises that Talagand promised would improve my singing.

"Do you really feel that you've learned a lot from him?" asked my father.

I nodded, "He teaches things quite differently than Istuilalf, and he makes it fun. He said that he would teach me to play the little harp if I were willing to practice."

"And are you willing to practice?"

I wrinkled my nose, "I'm so very bad at playing. I don't think I have the patience to learn."

"And you would rather be outside, no doubt."

I grinned, "On a day like this, who would want to be indoors?"

"Well, unless I can find a way to move my papers into the yard, indoors is where you will find me today, nethben," said my father, "Where do you plan to go today?"

"Gaelin showed me how to fletch arrows," I reported, "Ereglin told me that she'll meet us at the range up by the Midsummer clearing."

"Well, off with you then," said my father. He poured himself another cup of tea as I left.

Gaelin was as good as her word. I was afraid that the arrows we had made would not be sturdy enough to really shoot, but as Ereglin and I came to the range, Gaelin was shooting them into the target one at a time to try them out.

"Good morning, Neylar!" she cried as she finished the task. "Your arrows came out quite well. Come and show me how well you can shoot."

Under Gaelin's watchful eye, I strung my bow. We moved a target closer. I worked hard to remember all of the steps she had taught me. It took three tries, but I finally got one of the arrows to stick in the bale of hay that held the target.

"You've got the steps down, Legolas," she said finally, "now you've just got to smooth things out a bit and relax. Let's let Ereglin take a turn, then you can try again."

"Does a _tauron _really need to know how to use the bow?" I asked somewhat petulantly after my second round went nearly as badly as the first. Working with the bow was becoming a source of frustration for me. Not only was my shooting erratic and fair and best, but Ereglin was proving to have a definite knack for the skill. Gaelin was ever patient with her teaching, but I could tell my slow progress was a challenge for her as well. If I just relaxed and shot the bow in a way that felt right, the arrow inevitably flew wide. If I recited the steps for shooting, my body did not seem to want to listen and I always had an arm or a shoulder out of alignment. I found myself breathing deeply quite a lot that morning, just to stay in balance. Finally, Gaelin saw that I had had enough.

"You and Ereglin leave your bows here and go pay a visit to Luinthol," Gaelin suggested, "He'll be happy to see you and when you get back, you can start fresh." Relieved, I unstrung my bow and set it carefully against a tree with my quiver. I didn't wait for Ereglin, but ran quickly from the clearing. I liked Luinthol and looked forward to our visit.

When I got to the healing house I made a beeline for Luinthol's room. The door was open, so I slipped inside unannounced. Luinthol was lying belly down with his shirt off. Manid was rubbing salve into his back. I tiptoed closer to greet him.

Mainid shifted to one side, and suddenly the sight of grotesquely battered flesh met my eyes. I paused, shocked. All of Luinthol's back, from his neck to his hips, was covered in welts and great raw patches of torn skin. Neat rows of stitches crossed each other in several places. His whole torso was bruised and discolored. Many of the wounds looked red and angry. Manid worked silently. I could just see Luinthol's face. His eyes were closed. He was biting his lips against the pain. I stared at the Luinthol for one eternal moment, then I turned and raced from the room.

I nearly ran into Ereglin as I leapt off the veranda.

"Eh, Legolas, what is it?" He caught me by the shoulders. "What's frightened you so?"

I shook my head and tried to speak. My stomach began to rebel and I clutched it trying to calm myself. "It's Luinthol." I said desperately, "He is hurt! He's hurt so badly. What happened to him, Ereglin? Why is he hurt like that?" I could almost feel his pain.

Ereglin knelt and took my two hands in his. He spoke carefully. "The orcs did that to him, Legolas. They abused Luinthol when he was with them. He's in the hands of healers now. He'll soon be well."

"They did it to him on purpose?" I cried, "On purpose they hurt him?" I was frantically trying to understand. "They can't do that, Ereglin. That can't have happened." I could not stop trembling. I had heard that orcs were evil, but until that moment I never realized all that it meant.

Ereglin embraced me again and held me. My fists were clenched in fear and rage, and sorrow swept through me tearing at my soul. "They can't do that, Ereglin. Why did it happen?"

"It's part of the Darkness we fight, Legolas. You don't need to go back in there. We can go away."

"No," I said. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I was still trembling. "I promised Luinthol that I would see him today. I'll be fine in a minute." I breathed deeply to calm myself.

Ereglin gazed at me soberly for a moment. Finally, he nodded his head. "We'll go see Luinthol then. Do you want me to see if he's ready to receive us?"

I nodded, blinking tears from my eyes.

I allowed Ereglin to lead the way. I peered around him as we entered the room. Mainid had left and Luinthol was there resting against his pillows. He looked a little pale, but if I had not seen his back, I would have thought nothing was amiss.

Luinthol looked at me soberly and raised his eyebrows, "That was you who left the room so suddenly, wasn't it?" I nodded. He sighed, "Eh, Legolas, I'm sorry." He extended his hands in greeting.

Slowly I took his hands in mine. They were warm and soft and whole. My feelings were still spinning inside of me. "Does it hurt much?" I whispered.

"Not anymore. Well, when Mainid comes it hurts sometimes."

"And orcs did that? They did that to you?" I still could not believe it. The idea of causing pain purposefully was unfathomable to me.

"It's how they are, Legolas."

I paused. I remembered in the village one spring there was a wolf that kept attacking our small herd of goats. It did not always eat what it had killed, but seemed to kill and maim the goats for sport. Celthar had finally shot and killed it with his bow.

"What do orcs look like?" I demanded. "Are they like great wolves?"

Ereglin and Luinthol looked at one another.

"Ai, Legolas," murmured Luinthol at last.

"But I want to know," I protested. "I need you to tell me."

Luinthol sighed, "They are like beasts bound to the form of men, but are neither one nor the other," he said, "They walk and move as men, but they are greatly disfigured and their skin is sallow and often scarred. They answer only to the Necromancer. They are consumed with the desire to maim and kill, Legolas. It is all that they know. Killing them is the only way to stop them."

I looked away. My heart was still stirred within me, and Luinthol's words brought no comfort. I kept remembering what I had seen. I needed to breathe or sing or climb or run, but the pain was on the inside and it wasn't going away. _They had hurt Luinthol on purpose._

Luinthol still held my hands and he pulled on them gently, "Legolas, listen to me. The wounds I bear are the price I paid for killing three of the orcs. They hurt, but I will not be broken by the pain. With your help, I have already put the fear aside. Take what you are feeling now and push it from you, just like you pushed aside the darkness for me with your song."

I nodded. I wanted his words to make sense, but they only confused me. I pulled my hands from his and turned away. I could not bear to think of his pain.

Ereglin said our farewells and ushered me from the room.

We returned to the range in silence. As we walked, I felt a great rage building inside me. It was wrong for the orcs to hurt Luinthol so badly! It was wrong for them to frighten me, too. I began walking more quickly to get the anger out, but the more I thought about it, the more the anger and sorrow built. It was almost as though the Darkness was over me again, so powerful were the emotions.

When we arrived at the range, Ereglin said nothing, but picked up his bow and slung his quiver over his shoulder. He picked up my quiver and handed it to me as though it were time to go. I held the quiver and looked down at the arrows resting within. A vision of Luinthol's battered back came to me, and with it another wave of profound rage and sorrow. I needed to act, to do something.

Without a word I set the quiver down and strung my bow. I nocked an arrow. I poured my rage into the bow as I pulled, aimed and shot. I envisioned killing the orcs that hurt Luinthol. I envisioned killing them dead. The arrow hit the target with a satisfying thwack. I didn't take time to see where it landed, I just pulled another arrow from the quiver and made another shot. Hurting Luinthol was wrong. Seven times I pulled the bow and with each shot I envisioned that one orc was slain. When I was done I looked at my handiwork. Five of the shafts were neatly clustered near the center of the target.

Ereglin whistled low between his teeth. "Eh, Legolas, you looked like a warrior killing orcs!"

"I was not killing anything," I muttered. I put away my arrows then left the clearing.

I was quiet and subdued for the rest of the day. Ereglin was nearby, but he was wise enough to give me some time to sort things out. I was restless and took to the trails near the keep. I climbed any number of trees. I didn't stay long enough to let them comfort me. _They hurt Luinthol on purpose._ My whole world darkened with that one thought. Finally, I left Ereglin behind and climbed to the peak that my father had taken me to. The rock was bare and hard and large enough that I felt quite small sitting under the cloudless blue dome of the sky. There was a breeze that played among the rocks, but it did not blow my thoughts away. _They hurt Luinthol on purpose._ I wrapped my arms around my knees and stared into the sky.

"Ereglin said that you would be here." I watched my father climb across the granite face to where I was sitting. I looked at him and then looked away. He sat down near me but did not touch me. "He told me what happened." We sat in silence for a time.

"What is it like in the south?" I asked my father. "What is it really like?"

My father chose his words carefully. "It is as I said, Legolas, a beautiful place. It is strong and wonderful and good. But the Darkness is there, too. I will not deny it. There are many vile creatures, orcs, spiders and others that would lay claim to the forest. They are the enemy that we fight."

"And people get hurt."

"Yes, they do. And people die. Many, many of our warriors have died, Legolas. But they continue to fight."

"Why do they fight, Ada? Why don't they just go somewhere safe?"

"You have seen the map, nethben. Where would you have them go?"

I remembered the map. Most of the great wood was covered in Darkness. I rested my chin on my knees. "My village is safe," I said in a little voice.

"And the warriors can seek safety there?" My father looked at me kindly. "Yes, your village is safe, and that is why we fight. Places of joy and love and harmony are the very things we need to preserve. The forest is ours, Legolas, and we are the forest. Every tree and every creature depends on us. Would you willingly leave the forest to the orcs? For they will take over if given the chance." He paused and shook his head, "No, the dark creatures need to be killed, and the Necromancer purged from the forest. The battle that we face is far greater than just physical might. It is a battle for the soul of the woods and the spirit of the Laegrim. We cannot hide and we will not step down."

"And what about Luinthol? He is hurt so badly!"

My father sighed, "We cannot step down, Legolas, no matter what the cost."

The silence resumed as I considered my father's words.

"Are you going to the south to fight again, Ada?" I asked finally

"Yes, Legolas, but not right away."

I chewed on my lower lip which had begun to tremble. "Are you going to get hurt like Luinthol did?"

"I don't plan on it Legolas. But if I do, I will do my best to come home."

"But you will come home, won't you?"

My father got to his feet. "Wait here," he said. He began walking across the rocks slowly, looking carefully into the crevices and cracks. His face lit up and he smiled. "Legolas, come," he whispered urgently. He knelt down and I hurried to kneel beside him.

There, sheltered by his hand, was a tiny flower no bigger than the tip of my thumb.

"Look at this blossom," he spoke from behind my shoulder, "Ten thousand tons of rock sit beneath it, it is vulnerable to the rain, the wind and the parching sun. It will live but for a few short days. In spite of all those many troubles it grows and brings beauty to the world." He moved his hand, "There, you see? It's dancing in the wind. Dancing, Legolas!" He turned and shrugged and gave me an apologetic smile, "I can't protect you from all of the evil in Arda. But I can ask you to remember the flower. When Darkness threatens your heart you can fall to worry or sorrow or fear, or you can hold fast to the beauty in your soul and decide to dance in the wind."

He sat next to me then, and drew me into his strong embrace. I leaned into him and wept.


	26. Chapter 27

Do let me know if this works for you. I love to hear from you!

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Somehow, my new awareness of the enemy changed everything. I found myself drawn to the range where I spent hours shooting at imaginary orcs and spiders. Sometimes I envisioned that I was protecting my father, sometimes I was protecting my village. Sometimes I was protecting Luinthol, getting there just in time to kill the orcs before they tortured him. In all this, anger burned in my heart that there should be such an affront to the woods and to the people I loved. I was the prince and I knew that it was my calling to keep my people safe.

The first few days that I took my passion to the range, Ereglin didn't even get a chance to practice. I would shoot rapidly until my quiver was empty, then retrieve the arrows and shoot again. Every shot that landed true was an orc killed dead. I berated myself when the shots went wide, then drew and shot again. At night, my muscles protested, but I bit my lips against the pain and forced myself to endure. Over the course of many days my muscles developed and my archery skills improved.

Gaelin was encouraged by the improvement, but she was concerned about my countenance. "Relax, Legolas," she would admonish, "the bow should be relaxing and fun. You look as though that target wants to eat you up!" I would smile to please her, but soon my stern affect would resume. I knew now what the Darkness could do, I had seen firsthand what the orcs were capable of, and I knew that if my father went away, he might not return.

It was nearly a month since the Midsummer, and the mountains were shrouded in a blanket of damp heat. Ereglin and I left the keep early one morning for the range by the lake. The morning was bright, but humid. The trees, cloaked in the darker greens of full summer, were stilled by the thick air, and even the birds were subdued. Usually I ran to the range and Ereglin needed to hurry to keep up with me, but I could already feel the sweat collecting on my brow, so I elected to walk. We stopped at Aegliriel's fire long enough to exchange greetings then continued on our way.

"Shall we swim first or shoot?" asked Ereglin as we arrived at the range. He looked every bit as hot as I felt.

"It will only get hotter as the day goes on," I said, stringing my bow. "Help me move this target and I'll let you go first."

The target was soon adjusted and I watched Ereglin as he shot his arrows. He was graceful and limber, moving smoothly through each shot, almost as though he were dancing. Each shot garnered his full attention. I had to smile at the way he caught his tongue between his teeth to concentrate. I sighed, he seemed so relaxed and natural, as though hitting the target was no problem at all.

I could feel myself getting keyed up when my turn came. I often felt as though shooting meant harnessing the dark emotions that dwelt in my heart. There was power in destroying the enemy. If I could kill orcs perhaps I could save someone from Luinthol's fate. Perhaps I could even save my father. I stretched out my arms to loosen them a bit, and then gripped my bow. I breathed deeply and picked up my first arrow.

So intent was I on my shooting, that I was only vaguely aware that I was being watched. It wasn't until I had shot a full round that I caught sight of a brown clad figure half hidden in the trees. I paused and tilted my head. He looked oddly familiar. He moved just a bit and I caught sight of his merry eyes and wise features. At first I thought it couldn't be, but then he smiled.

"Istuilalf!" I cried. My bow clattered to the ground and I ran to embrace him. Strong arms scooped me up and held me close. The feelings that had been shadowing my heart evaporated and I was filled with joy.

"Eh, Legolas!" he said at last, "I am delighted to see you. Here, stand back a bit and let me look at you." I stood back and looked into Istuilalf's welcoming face. I felt lost in his keen gaze. His dark grey eyes looked me over as though he were reading my very heart. His smile faltered for a moment, then he grinned again. "I can see I came at a good time. They are teaching you archery, then?"

I shook my head, "Gaelin is teaching me the bow. Ereglin is learning too. But why have you come, Istuilalf? How long can you stay? Do you bring words from my family? How are they?" I reached out and held onto one of his hands. It was strong and comforting, as always. I leaned into Istuilalf's side and sighed a happy sigh. Joy filled my heart anew.

Istuilalf draped a long arm around my shoulders, "Actually, it was your father who sent for me, but I thought it wouldn't hurt if I took a little side trip to visit with you first, Legloas. A little visit will keep both of us happy and it will do no harm to have the King wait a bit longer."

"But how did you know where to find me?"

"I cradled you upon my heart when you were young, _nethben_. I always know where you are. Now who is this? Is he learning the bow as well?"

"This is Ereglin. He's my _meldir_. Ereglin, this is Istuilalf the Singer from my home." Ereglin was staring wide eyed at Istuilialf. He came to himself and blushed and bowed deeply.

"Talkative, aren't you?" said Istuilalf, "Well, no matter. Yes, Legolas, your family sends greetings. Your uncle wishes to know if you are hunting yet. Your aunt missed you at Midsummer. She made many delightful treats, and you weren't there to eat them. Brethilas did a fine job of running the canopy for Midsummer, and has spent far too many days working and not nearly enough time playing for his own satisfaction. The rest of the village sends their greetings, too. But how are you doing?" He looked at me intently again and I returned his gaze. There were no words for the sudden longing for home that filled my heart, and there were too many words needed to tell him all that had transpired since I had left. I said nothing, but words were not needed. Istuilalf smiled a sad smile and seemed to understand.

We walked together to the Keep. I could hardly believe he was at my side. "At first I had no intention of coming," confessed Istuilalf as we walked, "but then I thought it would be well to see you again, even if it means braving Dwarven tunnels to do so."

I laughed."There are no dwarves around anymore," I responded, "and the caves aren't so bad, once you get used to them. I do miss sleeping outside, though."

"And they have treated you well, Legolas?"

I nodded and shrugged. "Life is very different here, but there is always something to do."

We continued on with our idle conversation until we got to the bridge where we were stopped by the sentry. "Legolas, who have you got with you?" he asked.

"This is Istuilalf from my village," I responded, "He's come to see the King."

"I don't recognize you," he said to Istuilalf, "How did you get past the outer patrols?"

Istuilalf smiled, "I didn't feel the need to trouble them. Much easier to slip in unannounced. Legolas here will vouch for me. I'm here at the King's request."

"That may be true," said the sentry, "but you had best come with me. The King doesn't take kindly to strangers wandering about unescorted. I'll show you to a room where you can rest and take refreshment until the King is ready to see you."

Istuilalf bowed graciously and followed the sentry as he led the way into the caves. As we walked into the dim entrance to the caverns, Istuilalf walked slowly, examining the ornately carved walls and ceiling. I remembered how I felt the first time I had walked the corridor, and I took his hand.

We passed through the torch lit hallways in silence until we came to a receiving room near the throne room. The sentry opened the door and ushered us in. It was a large room, lit with white lanterns. It had a smooth floor and curved walls. High above our heads the ceiling was lost in shadow, although the dim shapes of stalactites could be seen. Several ornately carved chairs were placed for conversation at one end of the room, a wooden table with a highly polished surface graced the wall nearby. Ereglin quickly departed, after offering to find us some refreshment and tell the King of Istuilalf's arrival. The sentry took up a post outside the room and quietly shut the door.

Istuilalf looked at me and smiled. "It's been a long time since I've been this far underground," he said. He looked around the room as though seeking a window or a breath of fresh air, "but I'm sure there is a song for finding oneself under so much rock." He thought for a minute and then chuckled, "Eh, yes, now see if you can capture the harmony to this."

The song he sang was rough edges and angles, and I thought to myself that he must have made it up on the spot. It took me two verses to catch enough of the cadence to sing with him and another to create harmony for the refrain. I had forgotten how much fun it was to sing with Istuilalf. I gazed at his face as we sang, watching his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled.

We sang until the song was done. Istuilalf took a deep breath, "There, that's better," he said, "Now tell me, Legolas, whatever have you done with your voice?"

"I've been studying with Talagand the harper," I replied, "He's taught me breathing and placement and projection and techniques for singing. It's quite different from the way that you taught me, but it's a lot of fun to learn."

"You've always enjoyed learning, little one," said Istuilalf, "but you are right when you say that he has taught you differently. I can tell it in the way that you sing."

"It's not bad, is it?" I asked worriedly, "Have I been wrong to let him teach me?"

"Wrong? Well, no," responded Istuilalf, "but at some point you'll need to decide which training will serve you best. Depending on the style you choose, you could end up in two very different places."

My father arrived before Ereglin returned. He entered the room without being announced. He walked over to where we were standing and extended his hands in greeting. Istuilalf smiled and took his hands.

"Greetings, young Thranduil, how are you doing?"

My father smiled, "Much better, now that I know you're here. You've found Legolas already, I see. I hope you plan to stay a while. He speaks of you often."

"I will stay so long as I'm needed," Istuilalf responded, "But I am curious, what is this request that calls me from the village? I've been quite happy there and I was not eager to come."

"Here, have a seat and I'll tell you," said my father, indicating the chairs. Ereglin came in as we were seated. He served wine to my father. Istuilalf and I had a sweet juice that had been pressed from raspberries and mixed with cold tea. I helped myself to several small cakes as the adults talked.

I watched my father as he related how Luinthol had been taken and tortured by the orcs. He told of how broken and near death he was when I arrived at his room. He spoke of the song that I sang. Istuilalf looked at me sharply then, and I ducked my head in embarrassment. When my father was done describing the healing that the song had wrought, my father stopped speaking and sat back in his chair. For a time, the silence stood between us, until I wondered if Istuilalf had really heard what my father had been saying. Finally, Istuilalf pulled on his lower lip and looked from me to my father.

"I've used that Song for many things," he said at last, "but never for such a purpose. I am as amazed as you are that it should work. And yet, it is the Song one would use for purging the soul of sorrows. Yes, Thranduil, I can see now why you called me here. It would do well for you to have such a song in your fight against the enemy. Am I correct?" My father nodded.

Istuilalf paused and then continued, "The Deep Songs are not to be sung lightly," he continued, "They were given to only a few at the dawn of our people. They are tied to the Song itself and carry the melody of building and healing. Do you understand?"

My father shook his head. "Not really."

"Thranduil, what do you know of me?"

The question caught my father off guard. "Why, you are Avorren," he replied, "You were at the Awakening at Cuivienen. You have never fought in any war nor killed in anger. You are a Singer of the Deep Songs and," my father smiled, "You served as matchmaker for Lethriliel and myself."

Istuilalf laughed, "She was as intent on that as I was, young Thranduil, and you well know it." He took a sip of his drink, "But you are correct in saying that I'm a singer of the Deep Songs. There are very few of us left. To stay with the Songs of building and healing I took an oath to abstain from destructive violence. Not from fighting, mind you. There are many ways to fight that don't require violence, but I could never wield a sword or fight as a warrior. Not an easy task in Arda marred."

"But you know the Deep Songs," said my father, "You've taught one of them to Legolas. Surely you could teach others what you know."

"You don't understand," said Istuilalf, "Only a soul unmarred by violence can learn the songs of which I speak. Here in your stronghold I doubt that there is a single individual who has not at some point seen violence as the means to an end. Even your handmaidens know and endorse the idea that orcs must be murdered to cleanse the woods of evil."

"But they must be killed," said my father, "How else shall we purge the Green Wood of its Darkness?"

Istuilalf looked intently at my father, "The point is, Thranduil, that I can't teach the Songs to the people of your kingdom. The purity of spirit that is needed is nigh impossible to find."

"But you taught me!" I said, "You taught me and Brethilas."

Istuilalf turned to me and smiled sadly, "I did, little one, and you learned and listened so very well. But I will not be able to teach you any others."

"But why?" I asked, rising from my chair. "Is it because Talagand taught me poorly? I'll stop learning from Talagand if it means I can't learn from you anymore."

"Peace, Legolas," and he drew me into a warm embrace, "It isn't Talagand at all. It's the fact that you've been learning archery."

"No!" I cried, "I have been learning the bow."

"Gaelin has been teaching him," said my father, "She is training him to be a _tauron_."

"I know what I saw this morning," said Istuilalf. "It was the archery of a warrior. Tell me, Legolas, what do you know of hunting with the bow?"

I shrugged, "Nadar taught me that hunting with the bow is a dance with the animal. To hunt properly you envision yourself as the animal and envision the arrow killing as quickly and as cleanly as possible so that the animal doesn't need to suffer as it releases its spirit to the spirit of the woods. It's a listening. A very special kind of listening."

Istuilalf nodded, "Very good, Legolas. Now, tell me, what were you thinking as you were shooting arrows this morning."

I looked at Istuilalf. He already knew the truth. "I was killing orcs," I whispered, "I was killing them before they could hurt my father or Luinthol."

"You were acting as a warrior," said Istuilalf, "and killing with anger. The warrior doesn't listen, Legolas. He names his enemy and destroys him. Many walk the path of the warrior, and it is not my place to fault them, but the Deep Songs that I sing cannot be taught to one who has followed that path."

"It is well that so few are called to your path, Istuilalf," said my father dryly, "for if they were we should have long since been overwhelmed by the enemy."

"There are many melodies in the Song," said Istuilalf, "and who is to say what might be different if more followed my ways? The fact remains that I cannot teach that Song to anyone here. You brought Legolas from the village, Thranduil, and he has done well in following the course that you have set for him. Our destinies diverge at this point, for he is the son of a soldier. I give him to your care." He kissed me on the brow and would have sent me to my father, but I turned and held him tightly.

"I'm sorry," I cried, "but the Darkness was so big, and they hurt Luinthol so badly. Everyone said that killing orcs was the right thing to do. Istuilalf, don't leave me, you've only just come."

Istuilalf embraced me again, "Hush, Legolas. You have a great deal to learn if your father would make a warrior of you, and my ways would just confuse you."

"But I don't want to make a warrior of him!" said my father vehemently, "I've tried to make it clear to you that I don't want Legolas to be a soldier. He was training to be a _tauron_, and so he shall be. We need our warriors, Istuilalf, but we need our peacemakers too. It is the legacy of the wood elves to live in harmony with the woods. Their whole way of life is built on growing and working for the good. I would have Legolas follow that path. I may need to lead the people in hatred for the enemy, but Legolas must be raised to lead with joy." Sorrow twisted the features on my father's face, "It grieves my heart that events of the past weeks have scarred him so deeply. Do you have any healing words to mitigate what the enemy has done to my son?"

Istuilalf looked at my father and sighed deeply. "I'm not a worker of spells or magic, Thranduil. Legolas has been touched by the Darkness. I can see it in his eyes. I can't shield him from evil, there is far too much of it in Mirkwood. But if you like, I'll see what I can do to strengthen him for the Darkness he will find."

"How will you do that?" I asked.

"If I cannot teach you the Deep Songs, there are others that you can learn. More importantly I can teach you how to listen. Mindfulness, Legolas is the beginning of strength. If your father wants you to become a tauron, then you would do well to tune your heart to the Song of the Woods." He took a sip of his tea and looked at me as though he were taking my measure before he continued. "Long ago, all of the Wood Elves knew the Song. Not knowing with their heads, or their hearts, but _knowing_. The Song of the Woods was as much a part of them as your legs and arms are a part of you. It is much less so now. There are those who listen in the villages, but as the darkness has grown, the music of the Song has subsided. The melody is heard less frequently now, and warriors often hear it not at all. When Darkness that has covered so much of the Woods draws close, it has texture and shape, you have smelled it even, have you not?" I nodded. "Even at a distance from the source there is the miasma and dark tension of threatening doom that touches even the brightest parts of the woods. For those of us who lived in the robust joy of the Song as it was, we are now living in a time of shadow indeed." His eyes focused on me, and he raised his eyebrows, "Eh, Legolas you want to be a tauron, and that is well. But I would teach you to be a listener and a lover to the Song."

"You would teach me?" I asked. I stepped back from Istuilalf's embrace and looked at him earnestly. "Does that mean that you are willing to stay?"

Istuilalf looked at me and a slow smile brightened his face. "I will stay for a time, Legolas. I can't serve the King as he would have liked, but perhaps this will do instead?" He looked at my father who nodded.

"And if there are others who are wounded as Luinthol was?" asked my father.

"Then I am at your service," said Istuilalf, inclining his head.

"I will see to it that you are well provided for," said my father. "We could house you near the royal apartments."

Istuilalf laughed. "No, you must find me a place to stay in the open air," he responded, "and let it be a secluded place where Legolas can stay with me as well. I will not take him from you, Thranduil, but there is a great deal that only the Woods can teach him. I will keep him on safe paths, but if you would have me as a teacher I will need to travel with him at times."

My father looked at Istuilalf, who met his gaze calmly. "His childhood is short," said my father, "and I would not lose any more of it than I have already."

"His childhood is short," agreed Istuilalf, "and we must care for the sapling to grow the tree. You have many fine teachers to instruct in the ways of war. I offer you what I can in the ways of peace."

The conversation turned to lighter things. It turned out that my father was well acquainted with many of the people of my village, and as he asked after them I heard much of what had transpired since I had left. I asked my own questions and the time flowed. Leaning against Istuilalf with my father nearby restored to me a sense of safety that I had not felt since I'd heard Luinthol's first cries of pain. I felt happy again at last.


	27. Chapter 28

The last bits of color were fading into shades of grey as the Laegrim gathered for the Fire of the People. They came by ones and twos, emerging from the shadows of the great trees in silence then breaking into mellifluous cadences of chatter as they met.

The clearing itself was broad and bare of grass situated high on a bluff overlooking the river. The huge stones that ringed the fire had long since settled deeply shoulder to shoulder around a pit that was as wide as a man is high. The fire within had been built from pine and ash. Their scents blended on the evening air as the fire crackled from the sap in the wood.

I stood with my father at the west end of the fire. He was the only Sindar present. To his left and right were the leaders of the Laegrim. Orothador was among them with several other elves who I could not name. In easier times they would have been laughing or joking amongst themselves; the Fire of the People was held at every full moon and was often just an opportunity to dance beneath the stars. But on this night Amondorn would be present, and there was a stern solemnity in their countenance that spoke of the events to come.

Amondorn himself did not arrive until the moon had risen quite a ways. He was led to the gathering by a group of silent elves. His hands were bound in front of him. He held himself proudly, with only a trace of rigidity about him. His eyes were dark and large in the shadows. His posture would not reveal it, but I knew that he was afraid.

I can honestly say I had had no intention of eavesdropping on the conversation between my father and Amondorn the night before. As I recall, I had spent the morning with Istuilalf, and then was set free to undertake afternoon adventures with Ereglin, which had left me filthier that usual. Between bath and bedtime singing, it was quite late before I slid into bed. Finally, Ereglin had taken his appointed place on his pallet near the fireplace. He was sleeping soundly. I lay on the top of my covers, hoping that an errant breeze would come and keep me company. There was no light in my room save for a whisper of moonlight and a span of brightness that shone under the curtain to my father's quarters. As I lay there waiting for sleep to claim me, I heard two voices coming clearly through the open door between our rooms.

"I shouldn't have called you here at all, Amondorn, but I thought it only fair to listen to your story. You have been requested to go before the Fire of the People and I have given my consent." My father spoke carefully, as though not to upset his advisor.

"The Fire of the People, Thranduil?" Amondorn's voice trembled between outrage and fear. "Let the Council listen to my story, my lord. There is no need to send me to the Laegrim! There is no love lost between us and even more so now."

"And where does that ill ease come from? You've been advisor to the King for over a millennia. Surely you don't mean to tell me in all that time you have not learned to love the Laegrim?"

Amondorn's voice was low, yet I heard every word. "They are not my people, Thranduil, and they never will be. I have served you well and your father before you and I think that you have done great good for the Silvans. They have a deep respect for you and have responded well to your guidance. In the long run, though, they have no reason to respect me, save that I am connected to the King. I know that I am tolerated, no more than that, for your sake."

"I think that there could be more than that, if you would allow it. They are a warm and loving people, Amondorn. Isn't there one among them that you could call friend?"

"To be honest, I do not seek their friendship."

"You stand accused of many things, including holding the prince against his will and threatening the lives of my people. You would do well to claim a Laegren friend."

"What I am accused of is nonsense!" exclaimed Amondorn. He was silent for a moment. "I will admit it was irresponsible of me to allow Legolas to serve as the Aran Nelyar, but all would have been well if they had simply allowed me to give Taenor his due and get on with the business of the keep. They had no cause to take offense, and certainly defying me with a display of the _uruvae_ where they named Legolas as leader was provoking an altercation." His voice rose in earnest supplication. "I had every right to detain Legolas. His safety was my first concern. My concerns were validated when Orothador attempted to abduct him, or worse yet, to murder him! Let's keep to the issue," he continued, "This is about serving the throne, not making friends with the Wood Elves. They may dress well and appear to be civilized, but at heart they haven't changed since we found them naked in the woods."

"Is that all, Amondorn?" My father's voice held a dark edge.

"I wish no offence, my lord, but you'll probably never fully understand how selflessly your father served the Wood Elves. He gave so much to the Silvans. He brought them from savagery to civilization. He devoted his life and his family to serving them. In spite of this, he never really changed them. You've said yourself that they are ill suited for battle. The fact remains that they are untrainable. Look at what happened in the Battle of Dagorlad. They could not save themselves and they could not save their king."

"Is that what closed your heart to them, Amondorn? The death of my father?"

"If they had just trained better, Thranduil!" said Amondorn earnestly, "Dagorlad wasn't a battle, it was a slaughter. The Silvans fought with uncertainty and hesitation. They had been taught how to fight. Malenech spent years training them in the use of spears and swords and archery. In the end it was for nothing."

"In the end, we won the battle!" said the King, bristling.

"But we lost your father! And now, you are going into the south surrounded by warriors who cannot fight well to hold a land that is not your own. If they could not protect him then, how do I know that they will protect you now? I have been worried for you, Oropherion. As far as I can tell, the threat to your throne was a real one. The Silvans knew that you were fighting in the south and in their fickleness they thought to put Legolas in your place instead, or worse. I think they believed that you would not return."

"How can you be so convinced of this? You must have a deep distrust of the Laegrim, Amondorn. Have you not considered that your interpretations are misconstrued?"

"I have spent the last three weeks in the dungeon where there has been little else to do but consider the events that transpired while you were gone. I remain loyal to you, my lord. Give me a trial before a real Council, not led by the whims of the Wood Elves."

"Amondorn, for all of your suspicion of the Laegrim, they are the people we serve. Your transgressions were not against the Council but against them. The Fire of the People can be fierce but fair." My father paused, "Here, you don't look well. Let me pour you something to drink."

There were a few moments of silence. When Amondorn spoke again, his voice was shaking.

"Thranduil," he said at last, "have you no care for me? If you had seen them dancing, blue skinned, with bone knives in their hands you would know that they are still savages at heart. I fear for my life, my lord. Will you not reconsider?"

"Amondorn, I think that your fears are born of ignorance. Trust me in this. The Laegrim are not the savages you believe. You will need to go to the Fire of the People, they will consider the situation. The King has spoken. If it will comfort you, I will be there as well."

Silence weighed heavily for a time.

Finally, Amondorn spoke. His voice was almost a whisper. "Why did you call me from the dungeon?"

"To let you know that you are not forgotten, and to have some time to listen to your concerns. You have served the house of Oropher well, Amondorn. I don't believe you acted with malice, but the people's hearts are stirred. The Fire of the People will be held tomorrow night. I will see you then."

I must have fallen asleep shortly after that, but my dreams were troubled with thoughts of Amondorn and his fear.

With the arrival of Amondorn to the fire, the atmosphere of the gathering shifted. A tone of anger and unrest could be heard in the soft murmurings of the elves. Just before Orothador spoke, I caught sight of Istuilalf half hidden in the shadows. I was glad that he had come.

"We are family," said Orothador at last, as soon as the voices had stilled, "and tonight we gather to consider the actions of one who is not our own. For tonight, to offer fair judgment, I ask that Amondorn be considered as an equal among us, to face with fairness and rightness the consequences of his actions. Is there any who would speak against this?"

There was silence.

"We are family," said Orothador, "and are called to live in unity within the woods that grant us refuge. Let the words that are spoken here be uttered with honesty, simplicity and sincerity so that all may understand."

"So let it be," spoke the people. There was a gentle rustling as they moved to listen better.

"Amondorn, you have been called to the Fire of the People to answer to us why you usurped the will of the Aran Nelyar, held the Prince against his will, confined Orothador to the dungeons and planned violence against the Laegrim.

"I did what I thought was best," said Amondorn. His voice was dry, like a wind through grass.

"Speak, then, and tell us your story," said Orothador, "the people are listening."

Silence stretched tense and thin over the course of several minutes. Amondorn shifted several times apprehensively. When he finally spoke, despair filled his voice. "Tell them, Thranduil," he begged, "Tell them that I meant no harm. I was only trying to protect the Prince."

"He will not speak for you," said Orothador, "but we will listen to your words. Speak Amondorn. At the Fire of the People we are gathered to listen."

But Amondorn didn't seem to hear Orothador. He took several steps backwards, then fell to his knees. No one stepped forward to comfort him.

"He will not speak," said Orothador at last. He sighed, then he looked at me. "Legolas, the Fire of the People calls you. Speak, now, and tell us your story."

I was caught off guard by Orothador's request. I licked my lips and stepped forward, trying to piece together an answer as I moved. "I was Aran Nelyar, " I said, "I did tell Taenor that he would work in the kitchens, but Amondorn sent him to the dungeon instead."

"Did you attempt to settle your differences?" asked Orothador.

"Ereglin and Gaelin and I tried to tell Amondorn that people were unhappy. He told me that the Aran Nelyar was an honorific title. He didn't believe that my decision should stand. We tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen."

"Tell me more," said Orothador. "Do you know why you were confined to your room?"

"I think that Amondorn thought I wasn't safe. But I was safe," I said quickly, "Gaelin and Ereglin were with me and you tried to help me escape. I was safe all the time."

"Did you explain this to Amondorn?" asked Orothador.

I thought of Amondorn's uncomfortable visit to my room during my confinement, "No," I admitted honestly, "I couldn't."

"You couldn't?" asked Orothador. I squirmed and the tone of his voice.

"I probably should have said something," I said, "I'm sorry."

"Amondorn," said Orothador, "What have you to say now?

Amondorn looked up as though he were going to speak, but no words came.

Silence held sway over the people. A large log on the fire shifted and landed heavily in the pit. When the sparks died down, Orothador continued.

"For my own part, I was able to get access to the Prince's room," he said, "My hope was to take him to the safety of the Laegrim. Now, I was expecting confinement for getting caught," he said at last, "but I was not prepared for the accusation of attempted murder nor the hours of questioning you subjected me to while my hands were bound tightly over my head. Please explain yourself, Amondorn. We are ready to listen."

There was a dark murmur from the Laegrim. They did not take kindly to this news. When the mutterings had subsided, Amondorn cried out, "What was I to believe?" He paused, "You entered the Prince's room armed, Orothador. You danced the _uruvae_ and named Legolas as your leader. When that plan was thwarted, I thought you had decided to murder Legolas and remove him from the picture altogether. I thought that you were hoping that Thranduil would die as well so that you could take leadership for yourself and become king of the Laegrim. I thought that you were a danger to the people, Orothador. I was justified in what I did!"

The fire crackled and hissed.

"What do you know of the leadership of the Laegrim?" asked Orothador at last.

"What is there to know?" responded Amondorn sullenly.

"You have lived amongst us for many long-years," said Orothador, "You should know by now that no Laegrim tries to be leader. It is a position that is to be avoided as much as possible."

"You are a leader," replied Amondorn defensively, "admit it."

Orothador laughed, "I am a leader because I have the age and qualifications to serve, nothing more. Why do you think we are so eager for the house of Oropher to lead, Amondorn? It's because no true Laegrim would ever want the job."

There was a ripple of laughter from the people. The joke was an old one.

"There is much you don't understand of the Laegrim." Orothador sobered, "I would not have planned to murder Legolas, Amondorn, because there is no concept of murder in the Laegrim way. It is not done. There is not even a word to describe it," he said. "We are trying to hear your story, though. What else do you have to say for yourself?"

Amondorn looked around at the people in the shadows. The laughter had only made him more nervous. He pulled fretfully at the hem of his tunic and pleaded, "I was only acting in the best interests of all. I meant no harm!"

Orothador frowned, "As one who faced the Sidarin archers on the morning the King returned, I find it hard to believe that you meant no harm. Your ignorance of the Laegrem way is dangerous. It has placed the lives of the Prince and his people at risk. Do you have other words to offer?" When Amondorn did not respond, Orothador waited a minute and then turned to the crowed, "What is going to become of him then?"

Amondorn seemed to fold in upon himself. He sat on the ground with his face buried in his hands.

A maiden stepped forward and bowed. Her face was shrouded in the darkness. "It seems to me that Amondorn acted from ignorance," she offered.

There was a murmur of assent, followed by a time of silence.

"His ignorance nearly cost the lives of many people," said one of the warriors who stood near to Orothador. "He can't be trusted as an advisor any longer."

"He can't be trusted unless he changes his ways," called someone from across the fire.

"We have no power to change the mind or the heart of another." I recognized Sedeliel's father.

"We could tell him to leave, or at least sojourn into the wilderness if he will not change his ways."

There was the murmur of assent. Amondorn lifted his head and gazed at my father. My father did not respond.

"We have very little wilderness in which to wander, Thonarod," said another, "and he's a Sindar. They aren't so good at finding their way in the woods."

Orothador nodded, then waited again.

"May I speak?" I looked up suddenly, the voice was Istuilalf's. The singer stepped into the firelight and bowed. "My name is Istuilalf. I am Avorrin. I come in peace."

Orothador looked at him intently, "I know you. We met once, long ago," he said, "Welcome to the fire,"

"Thank you." Istuilalf inclined his head. He stood before Amondorn and looked down at him. "Amondorn, Can you see now that there was no attempt to harm Legolas or take over the leadership? Can you see the truth of what transpired? The only danger was that you acted from your chosen ignorance and nearly brought disaster upon the people."

Amondorn didn't hear him. "Tell them to do what they must do quickly," he cried, "Who am I to stand against the anger of so many? Even my king has left me to their devices."

"What I propose," said Istuilalf, turning to Orothador, "Is that Amodorn be sent to live in a village for a time. If he could live with the Laegrim, perhaps he would learn to see things through their eyes. Eventually, he might even learn how to listen."

There was a whispering from the crowd. "Who would take him?" cried someone at last.

Istuilalf turned to the voice, and raised his eyebrows, "Why, I thought that the Laegrim were known for nurturing and fostering the helpless of the woods. Amondorn is no paragon of strength before you now, and divested of his role of advisor you will find him even less formidable. Return his acts with kindness, that's what I would say. Take him and teach him the ways of the people as you would teach one of your children."

"It would take a thousand years to change his heart," said someone.

Istuilalf shook his head, "You only need to turn his heart a little bit. A small change in direction now will bring him to a far different place as time goes on. Take him for twenty years, or even ten. He has isolated himself far too long. I would guess some part of him is hungry for the fellowship that the Laegrim have to offer."

Orothador looked at Istuilalf and a slow smile spread across his face. "It's good to have you with us, Istuilalf." He nodded, "I know of a village just a day's walk from here. The people there were not involved with Amondorn's issues. They may be willing to look kindly upon him for a season. Twenty years is not that long, so long as Amondorn puts his time to good use." He turned to the people, "Do we have consensus?"

At first the Laegrim whispered their affirmation, but then it was both spoken and sung loud enough to be carried on the wind.

"The woods have heard your decree, my people. Amondorn will live the next twenty years as a Laegrim partaking of the duties and the delights of the people. For the next twenty years he will be counted as one of us. The people have spoken."

Amondorn looked from Istuilalf to Orothador. I could not tell if the look of shock on his face was from the fact that he was safe, or that the consequence for his actions was so unexpected. There was not a sound to be heard, save for the song of a nightingale from high in a tree.

Orothador stepped forward and quickly pulled a small knife from its sheath. Amondorn flinched, but Orothador calmly used the knife to cut Amondorn free. "From this moment forward you are Laegren, Amondorn. Your new name will be Crebruin. I will take you to your home tomorrow. Tonight is the full moon, a time for singing and dancing. Stay with us now, and celebrate."

"My lord!" cried Amondorn, and he threw himself at my father's feet.

The King bent down and put a gentle hand on Amondorn's shoulder, "So let it be," he said.

-0-0-0-0-0

_Did it go as you expected? Let me hear from you. I will listen to your words. _


	28. Chapter 29

It took many months for Amondorn to come to peace with the edict of the Laegrim. Through my father I heard of his stubbornness and his unwilling spirit. As winter turned to its coldest days we heard news less frequently from the village, but it seemed that it wasn't until the next spring that Amondorn finally resigned himself to his fate.

My own season of learning had taken some adjustment on my part as well. Gone were the days when I could play with Ereglin and partake of learning at a whim. Isuilalf was a patient teacher, but very demanding. He kept me at his side for most of the month following his arrival. I shadowed him as he searched the nearby foothills for a place to settle. For a time I thought to help him find a tree suitable for a talan, but he disabused me of the notion and set another course.

"Talans are a new construction," he informed me, "Your forefathers built on solid ground using the gifts of the forest to create homes that were functional and weather tight. Done properly, they should be all but invisible to the casual observer. Take this flank of the mountains. It's mostly birch and ash right now, but I'd say that it once was old growth of beech and maple. There was a fire here less than a century ago, and these young trees have grown in their place. But if you look around, you will see the remains of the ancient guardians of this mountain." He led me on a path near the river as it ran its course to the valley below. I had to hurry to keep up with his swift gait. He was clearly looking for something; his grey eyes peered into the forest as we walked.

"Here it is, Legolas!" he cried suddenly. He hurried up the slope of the mountain for a short distance and stopped beside a great hollowed trunk of the largest beech I had ever seen. Istuilalf stood proudly before it. "The fire burned the inside of the tree, but this particular beech was too hearty to succumb. There was enough live wood left so that it could continue growing on its own, and provide us with a nice place to sleep in the meantime." He ducked his head and stepped into the tree. I placed my hand on the smooth bark and peered inside.

The walls of the interior were a full two paces apart. They were dark and sloped gently inward until they met at a point well above our heads. There was enough room for the two of us to sleep with a small space left over. When we returned with some supplies the next day, Istuilalf placed a series of pegs high in the wall; two for my bow, one for my quiver, one for his travelling bag, and two for our cloaks for when the weather turned cold. The floor of the tree cavity was loamy and soft; we each had a wide woolen blanket for sleeping. It was small, but I thought that it was much better than my spacious room in the caverns.

The full moon had nearly come again when my father finally allowed me leave to stay with Istuilalf for three months. We were seldom far from the keep – less than a day's walk away, but we were to the north and west of the keep, where a broad shoulder of the mountain separated us from the comings and goings of the caverns. I was delighted. I ran ahead of Istuilalf the day we left, hoping that he would hurry. I had to double back to him several times because he was walking so slowly.

We did not build a fire that first night, but feasted on wild blackberries, Sedeliel's bread and fresh water from the river. After supper we stripped and went swimming in the river. The water was cold, and after the heat of the day it felt wonderful.

The current was fairly strong, but the river was shallow. I stretched out looking into the water. I placed my hands against the rocks at the bottom of the river and let my body float with the current. I closed my eyes and envisioned myself as a drop of water in the stream. I was distracted for a moment as I heard Istuilalf splash over to me and sit beside me in the river. I didn't open my eyes. Carefully, he reached across my back, and with both hands grasped my shoulders.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet and smooth, as though he were afraid to break my concentration. "_Listen_, Legolas," he said, "_Listen to the music of the water_." I took a slow breath to center myself and then I listened.

I felt Istuilalf's hands on my shoulders. They anchored me to one place. The rest of me had become formless, smooth, slippery and moving with a cadence that was both lively and strong. I breathed in and immersed myself fully in the water. All sense of self disappeared. I was the water, sliding ever downward over smooth rocks, swirling eddies caught in stony outcroppings. Drinking in the warm evening sunlight, sparkling at the surface, descending into rippling shadows below. Reaching with swift grace, embracing the melody that was the river. The undulations of the water became a melody that tumbled and played and answered a call to move on, ever on, ever on. Inexplicably I felt united with the water. all that it touched, all that it contained all that it was. I was part of the whole song, partaking of the here and now partaking of forever. Its indescribable beauty sent a note of profound longing to my heart. I was lost in the music and yet so very found. I was-

I came up gasping for breath. Water slid down my body and dripped from my hair. I twisted, facing Istuilalf, I grabbed his two wrists with my hands. I stood there, breathing hard, gazing at him in amazement. His eyes were eager, challenging me. He was also breathing hard. His mouth formed a thin line, and then slowly spread into a warm smile.

The silence stood between us until I became aware of the river singing a quiet song as it tumbled by us. The river was there again, no longer within me. No longer me. I swallowed. "Please?" I asked, "Do that again?"

Istuilalf began to laugh. I let go of his wrists and allowed him to take my hands. I felt balanced and full and whole and I began to laugh as well.

"You will do well," he said finally, as he led me from the water.

We sat on the banks of the river that evening, watching golden shafts of sunlight pierce the darkness of gathering thunderheads in the west. There were no words between us. I was reminded of the many times I had watched the morning unfold, knowing the rhythms of the new day as I might know a friend. Our evening watch was much the same. The light shifted, the birds calmed. Just before sunset the swift swallows emerged to do their evening hunting. They were followed by a handful of bats, almost lost in the deepening grey. A single star shone high in the crown of the evening sky. It was joined by another. Long before all the stars emerged, the clouds moved in to cover them. I felt the temperature drop and there was the stirring of a breeze on my skin.

"Come, Legolas," said Istuilalf at last. We gathered our clothing and made our way to the tree. I had no night shift to change into. I slept with nothing on, save for the warm summer air to caress my skin. Soon the air smelled damp and the rain began to fall, singing a hushing rhythm on the ground outside. We were snug and dry in our tree. It felt good to be sleeping in the open air again. As I drifted off, I felt like I was home.

I woke early the next morning. Istuilalf was up before me. I scrambled into my clothes and emerged to find two fish grilling over the fire. Istuilalf's pack was open, his metal fishing blade rested next to him on a rock. He was measuring tea into an open kettle on the fire.

"Good morning little one," he said, adding a final pinch of tea to the kettle, "I don't tend fire nearly as well as your aunt, but I do recall she made fish and tea for you and Brethilas for breakfast."

"Nadar, too," I said. "He caught the fish and I cleaned them."

"I remember your morning songs, Legolas. You always sang from the top of the tallest tree. I could hear your voice quite clearly in the morning."

"I remember your night songs, Istuilalf. If the stars are out, will we sing tonight?"

Istuilalf chuckled, "If you are not too tired by the end of the day. I intend to work you hard." He handed me two trenchers from his pack. "You can begin by serving us breakfast."

Earlier, for many of our shorter day trips, Istuilalf had made me carry my bow strung and a full quiver without using them. At first it was awkward holding the long bow as we made our way through the woods. It would often catch on things or need to be navigated through the narrow places with care. The quiver was full and seemed heavy across my shoulders. After a week or two, bearing them had become second nature and I almost didn't realize that I was carrying them. After breakfast, when Istuilalf asked me to retrieve my bow and quiver from the tree, I hastened to comply.

Our walk that morning took us high into the hills. The trees near the summit were mostly pine and were spaced further apart than in the valley. There were great open places of bare rock where nothing grew. Standing on the edge of one of these I could see for miles. The mountains were behind me, solid and ancient, enduring. As far as I could see, the trees covered the land of the valley before me. Amondorn had taught me how to count to a thousand, and I was sure that there were thousands and thousands of trees in the forest at my feet.

"Who sings to these trees, Istuilalaf?" I asked.

"Eh, Legolas, they have their own melody. There are many kinds of trees, but each tree is unique. Every branch on the tree tells its own story. Every leaf on each branch is singular in its beauty. There are no two leaves the same in all creation. They are all, each of them living, each of them singing."

"Each of them, the leaves too? But leaves are not alive," I said.

"They are born, abide and die," said Istuilalf, "They eat the sunshine and drink the rain. They dance in the wind. Who is to say that they are not alive?"

I looked again at the valley. The colors seemed clearer and brighter somehow. Thinking of the number of trees and the songs of the leaves was overwhelming. I shaded my eyes and tried to envision myself as the forest. I realized that I was only looking at a very small part of the woods and I could feel a stirring in my heart. So many melodies so many harmonies so many songs, each living, each unique! I sighed at the grandeur of it and would have stayed much longer, but Istuilalf had turned and was walking away.

"Legolas," he said some time later as we came to a clearing near the river, "Do you see the gap between the two branches of that tree?" He pointed to a gnarled oak at the other side of the clearing. I nodded. "See if you can shoot an arrow through the gap."

Eagerly I took an arrow from my quiver. It had been several weeks since I had been allowed to shoot, and I could feel my muscles protest at the unexpected request. I nocked the arrow, drew back and aimed. The shot went wide.

"Try again, Legolas, and this time, listen. Listen to your body. It will tell you if you are shooting well. Listen for the target. You want your arrow to become one with it. Clear your mind of everything else."

I squirmed and took another arrow. I nocked, pulled and paused. I gazed at the gap and tried to envision the arrow slicing smoothly through the opening. At the last minute I wondered how many leaves were on the oak. Again the shot went wide.

"That was better, Legolas," said Istuilalf, "To shoot well, you must empty your mind of all distractions and focus on the moment when your arrow hits the target."

I retrieved my arrows and we set out once again on our walk. Istuilalf spent the rest of the day teaching me how to get my bearings on the trail and periodically asking me to shoot at a variety of targets. By the end of the day I was exhausted but happy. I had lost two of my arrows and one had broken against a rock, but it was a small price to pay for learning how to free my mind to focus on the destination.

"Am I as good as Ereglin?" I asked Istuilalf at the fire that night. He was rubbing a soothing salve into my aching shoulders.

"I don't know, Legolas. I've never seen Ereglin shoot," replied Istuilalf.

"He's quite good," I responded, "When he shoots it almost looks like he is dancing."

"Good shooting is a dance," said Istuilalf.

"Why did Gaelin teach us to shoot using the targets?" I pondered, "Learning your way is much better."

"Perhaps it's easier," said Istuilalf, "If you had stayed in the village you would have learned the bow by walking the trails, but many of the ways of the wood elves have been changed for those who live near the keep. It's easier to keep track of your arrows when you use a target." He began rubbing my arms with the salve. Its strong smell got caught in my nose.

"Then I guess easier isn't always better," I said decisively. I watched Istuilalf as he rubbed my arms."Ereglin would enjoy learning from you." I said after a moment, "Could he join us some time?"

Istuilalf looked at me. "You are my primary charge, Legolas. You have many things to learn, but I understand that Ereglin is your _meldir_." He thought for a moment, then continued. "It might do well for him to come with us, at least when you are learning to hunt." He paused and put the salve away. "I'd like to see how he handles the bow on the trail. Yes, coming with you might be a good idea."

And so it was that Ereglin was able to join us. In the following weeks we spent many days exploring the forest of the northwest slopes. Often the trails we took were animal trails. When they were lacking, we learned to make our own way without leaving a trail of our own. When we took the time to walk silently (and Istuilalf made us walk silently often), we were usually rewarded with sights of the animal inhabitants of the forest.

Over time, we learned something of the skills of tracking, and also learned much of the lives of many of the creatures. There was a large grey jay who made his home near our tree. He was a welcome addition to our company, even though he seemed to spend much of his time trying to help himself to our meals. The deer were plentiful, although shy. Hunters were not unknown in this part of the forest. Foxes frequented the brushwood near the meadows, and we often saw evidence of wild boar and even lynx. My favorite animals were the otters. They lived in the underbrush next to a rocky part of the river. They loved to play in the water and on the shore. We spent many hours enjoying their antics as they slid into the water and played on the rocks, and I never tired of watching the swallows circling through the air as they caught the bugs that lived over the water of the river.

Ereglin's skill at shooting targets for Gaelin had been good but he found shooting accurately on the trail to be quite a challenge. On the trail we were quite evenly matched and for many days it was hard to tell who would be better at the bow. It got to the point, after quite some time and a great deal of effort, where both of us could shoot a named target almost all the time. Ereglin could shoot further, but then again his bow was longer than mine. The summer season had passed and the leaves had begun to turn when Istuilalf decreed that we were ready to hunt game.

"Hunting is a very special kind of listening," he told us one morning as we set out from the tree. "With your bow you are given the gift of reuniting the spirit of the living with the spirit of the woods. Just as the leaves on the tree die and fall so that new leaves may grow and flourish, so you will take the life of an animal that your own life may continue. The animal is gifting you its life, and that gift needs to be honored. Take only what you need from the forest and do your best to see that the transition from life to death is as swift and painless as possible.

"I have taught you to concentrate on the destination when you shoot," He continued, "Now you must also add your ability to envision yourself as the animal. Become one with its every move. Let your arrow strike either head or heart, but envision the arrow killing swiftly and with little pain."

Ereglin and I nodded with wide eyed wonder. We went out that day with great expectations. We returned to the tree near sunset with only one small rabbit between us. Ereglin had made the shot. Istuilalf showed us how to clean the rabbit and save the pelt for later use. The meat was tender and unsullied by spices. It was the first game we had eaten with Istuilalf. It was delicious.

Our daily treks into the woods were filled with wanderings and watchings. Nothing stands alone in the woods. It is a place of constant unity, of constant interplay between one thing and another. After the rain we would lie belly down and watch a drop of water trace a graceful path across a blade of grass to dangle, like a prism, then fall to nourish the ground below. In the early morning we would seek the music of a broad waterfall above our home. Even the light had a melody, bright and wholesome during the day, sulky before a storm, dim and soft as the night drew near. In the forest, no song was as clear and strong as the song of the trees. Each stood solitary and firm, a kingdom unto itself, yet joined by kind and by kindred to create the great woods.

The lessons among the trees were among my favorites. There were no ropes to join the canopy where we were, but many of the trees were willing to be climbed. Ereglin never did learn to climb as quickly or as high as I did, but I felt a great sense of satisfaction when he joined me in heartfelt song.

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And so we must bid adieu until next week. What did you think of this week's bit? If I haven't heard from you yet, now would be a good time!


	29. Chapter 30

Late in the autumn, about three weeks before we were to return to the keep, Istuilalf declared that we needed to see more of the world. We packed our few belongings, rolled our blankets and were ready to depart just before dawn of the next day. The trail we followed took us to the north and east. The leaves of all but the oaks had fallen, covering much of the deer trail that we were following with their detritus. The trees stood stark, with graceful branches reaching to the sky. Hoarfrost covered the undergrowth for much of the morning, and often a pattern of tracks could be seen on the ground. Thanks to Istuilalf's training, I carried with me an ongoing sense of the song of the woods. It spoke through my heart and lifted my spirits as we walked.

By mid day on the third day we had left the mountains behind us. The woods we transversed were ancient collections of maple and beech. The canopy was so far over our heads that the understory seemed silent by comparison. We carefully made a trail northeast as the sky became overcast and the temperatures began to drop. I wrapped my cloak around my body and shifted my bow from one hand to another to keep my fingers warm.

Suddenly, Istuilalf stopped and put out a hand so that we would not walk past him. "Look," he said softly, "What do you see?"

The ground was a mixture of mud and leaves. Just in front of Istuilalf the leaves had been compressed into the mud. The faint outline of a boot could be seen. I looked at the path ahead of us.

"Eh, Istuilalf, there is another one!" I cried.

"Where?" said Ereglin, "I don't see what you are looking at."

Istuilaf bent down and traced the edge of the track with his finger. "This mark is small and deep," he said, "it was made by a Man."

"A Man?" I said, "Do you think he's nearby?" I grasped my bow tightly. A shiver of excitement flitted down my back. I had heard of men, but I never thought I might see one.

Istuilalf stood up again, "Doubtful, Legolas," he said, "These tracks are several days old. I thought we were far enough from Dale that we wouldn't run into anyone, but someone must've felt safe enough to trespass this far into Thranduil's woods." 

"Can we follow them, at least, Istuilalf?" I asked, "We might find a Man at the end of the trail."

Istuilalf looked soberly into my face. I stood before him, resisting the temptation to beg. Finally, I saw a slight smile touch his lips. "Very well, then, but you and Ereglin must do the tracking."

I nodded my head eagerly and we set to work.

The tracks were fairly easy to follow and we made our way swiftly along the path. We followed them through a shallow valley and high up onto a wide ridge. In the underbrush near the edge of the ridge I could make out something dark and solid.

"Look, Ereglin," I whispered, "I think I see his campsite ahead." We crouched low and made our way silently forward. As we drew near, I could see something brown moving awkwardly from within the dark object. A step further and I could see that a large weasel was writhing, grasped firmly by the leg between two pieces of metal. The edges of the metal were jagged and bit deeply into the leg of the animal. Blood had spattered on the metal and spilled onto the ground. The creature was squealing softly, too spent from its exertions to protest more loudly. It turned its face to me. The pain in its eyes reminded me of the pain I had seen in Luinthol. I glanced at Istuilalf. Perhaps he could sing this creature to health?

But Istuilalf's face was dark and clouded with anger. He gazed at the weasel. As I watched he drew a long stone knife from the belt at his waist. Swiftly he went to the animal and thrust the knife deep into its chest. The animal went limp and the squealing stopped.

"You killed it!" I said stupidly. I don't know why I was so startled.

"Help me free it from the trap," said Istuilalf quietly. The jaws of the trap were braced by some kind of spring mechanism and it took both of us to open it widely enough to free the animal. Istuilalf took the carcass and set it reverently on the ground. He took some leaves and wiped his blade free of blood.

When all was done, Istuilalf took the stone knife and dug two holes just off the path. One was for the body of the weasel, the other was for the trap. We helped him fill in the dirt, covering each with leaves so that they could not be found again. At last Istuilalf nodded and, turning aside from the path that we had been following, he set his own course through the woods.

He did not speak again until we had set up camp for the night. We had a good fire going and Ereglin had set a pot on the fire to make stew. We had some dried meat that would soften as it boiled, and I had gathered some late wild onions as we hiked. We ate in silence. When we were done, Istuilalf looked at us and said, "Tell me what you saw today."

"Was that thing something from the Darkness?" asked Ereglin.

Istuilalf shook his head, "Not from the Darkness your father fights, but darkness of its own kind."

"You called it a trap," I said, "have you seen such things before?"

"I have," said Istuilalf, "They are set by Men who do not heed the suffering of the animals of the forest. It is not wrong to seek the harvest, but it is wrong to incur needless suffering. Elvin snares kill the animal quickly, but these traps are good for suffering and little else. Left untended, the animal suffers, the meat is often rancid and the pelt is torn."

"Why did you kill the animal?" I asked, almost angrily, "Couldn't you have healed it instead?"

Istuilalf sighed deeply. "No Legolas, the weasel had turned its face from life to death. You heard the timbre of its cry. It was ready for release to the greater spirit of the woods," He spoke carefully after a moment. "There are times for all creatures when death can be a gift. To release the hide bound spirit to the greater spirit is an act of compassion and mercy. It was so in this case."

"So it was better not to let him live?" the concept seemed strange to me, but then I had also fought hard against Luinthol's death.

"When you are as long lived as the elves, death can seem a harsh consequence," said Istuilalf, "but for much of creation death is a gift, a resolution to a life well lived. Animals have no fear of death, but pain and suffering are of no use to them. Far better to relieve their suffering than to extend their pain."

"Luinthol suffered and yet he lived," I said.

Istuilalf gazed at me for a moment before he spoke. "Learning the bow was not painless for you, was it young one?"

I shook my head.

"And yet through suffering you persevered, holding on to the hope that the suffering would be justified when your bow skills improved. Suffering with hope has its own rewards, but such was not the case with the weasel."

"He had no hope," I said.

"He was dying, Legolas. His hope was in relief from his suffering and in that I did not disappoint him. The release of his spirit to the spirit of the woods should have been swift. He was denied that, but hopefully through my action, his spirit was freed to unite with the spirit of the woods."

I pondered this for a moment. "And what of the knife?" I asked after a moment. I was curious. "Why didn't you use your fishing knife? I saw stone knives before. Orthador and the warriors used them when they danced the uruvae."

Istuilalf smiled and drew the knife and set it before me. The stone was long, nearly the length of a man's forearm. It was hafted onto the antler of a deer. The antler had been split, and the blade was held into place with tightly wound sinew. "This is the knife that I used, little one. You are right to see that it is similar to the one Orthador used. He gifted this to me some time ago," he paused, "Actually, I am compelled to carry it on the open trail because I lost a bet to him."

"A bet?" asked Ereglin from the other side of the fire, "What sort of a bet Istuilalf?"

Istuilalf looked between us for a moment.

"Please tell us how you came by this knife. Please?" I asked.

Istuilalf pursed his lips and his eyes began to twinkle. I squirmed. I loved to hear his stories.

"Well, first you need to know that the uruvae was not always a warrior's dance. Long ago it was a hunter's dance. Hunting was very important to the wood elves and the uruvae gave them the chance to teach basic hunting moves before they would be needed in the field."

"Hunting with knives?" I said, "Why didn't they use the bow?"

"That was long before Oropher came to the wood elves, little one. They had no bows. All their hunting was done with knives and simple snares. The small animals they could snare by hand and dispatch by breaking their necks, but the larger animals, the boar, the deer and the lynx needed stealth and swiftness. They worked together to flush the animal from the woods. When it emerged, they quickly killed it with a single stroke of the knife."

"That must have been hard to do," said Ereglin.

Istuilalf looked at him, "Oh, it was very hard, Ereglin. Not a season went by without injuries and sometimes a death. But the bounty of the woods has never been generous enough, especially in the winter, to live without some form of meat. The wood elves were very careful to teach the hunting skills to their young before they ever took an animal, but even though a youth might come of age by reckoning of years, he was not considered an adult until he had taken a boar or a lynx armed only with a single knife.

"In later days, when the wood elves encountered orcs and other dark creatures, they added a second knife to increase their effectiveness. That's when the uruvae ceased being danced for hunting and started being danced for war."

"They fought orcs that long ago?" I asked.

"The dark ones have been with us almost since the beginning," said Istuilalf, "The uruvae dates from a time before Oropher. When Oropher arrived, he introduced swords and archery. The wood elves have been using them ever since."

I glanced at Ereglin. "What are you grinning at?" I demanded. My meldir sat across the fire from me smirking. He looked at me and began to chuckle. "I'm laughing at you Legolas. Do you see how easily Istuilalf has turned from story teller to lecturer? We've had a good lesson, but we still don't know why Istuilalf carries a bone knife."

"Oh yes, the story!" I begged.

Istuilalf raised his eyebrows, "Well, it really is quite simple, young Ereglin. One of the ways I've managed to live as long as I have is by taking care to avoid situations that may demand violence. For many years I carried only the short knife for fishing and general uses, but no weaponry at all. I depended solely on my sense of the forest. Somehow Orothador found out what I was doing and he called me on this practice. He said that he had seen my heart growing proud over the fact that I carried no weapon. In my foolishness, I assured him that I had no need. That same year I spent the winter with his people. (They are so gracious, Legolas, you must get to know them if you can.) Come snowmelt, I was ready to be on my way, but Orthador deterred me, warning me of the dangers that the spring melt would bring.

"Nonsense, Orthador," I chastised him, "I've lived for millennia. I know what dangers the forest holds." I was a bit angry with him for trying to tell me what to do. I set out the next morning alone, without any weapons. As fate would have it, I wasn't two hours from his village when I began to get the uncomfortable feeling that I was being watched. I moved swiftly along the path, but the feeling didn't abate. Finally, I stopped and looked carefully around me. There was no sign of life in the underbrush. Even the song of the birds was stilled. What I failed to do, my friends, was look up into the trees. I had hardly finished looking around when I was set upon by a hungry lynx, who dropped from the trees to devour me."

"Ai, Istuilalf, what did you do?" I asked.

"There was not much I could do," he replied. "I tried to push him away, but he wrapped himself around my body and opened his jaws wide, intending to slash my throat. I had barely the presence of mind to hold his head as far from me as possible. I could feel his hot breath on my face. I knew then that I had been foolish, and I regretted that I would not live to tell Orothador that he was right. Just as my arms gave way there was an incredible thud, and the lynx collapsed off my body and fell to the ground."

He looked at the two of us, as though challenging us to comment.

"Orothador had been concerned for my safety. He had followed me for most of the morning and had almost figured that I would indeed be safe when the lynx attacked. He made short work of the cat, and then took time to help me to my feet.

"You have proved me wrong, Orthador," I said, as soon as I gathered my wits, "and I am indebted to you for my life. Name your gift and I will do my best to fulfill it, even if it costs me dearly."

"But Orthador just laughed at me and waved his bloody knife in my face. "I could have done nothing to aid you, my friend, without this knife. If you choose to wander these woods in the spring," he continued, "take care that you are equipped with the proper tools to do so safely. The price that I exact from you is this, you must carry a proper hunting knife with you always when you are on the trail and suffer me to teach you how to best use it. You are a dear friend, Istuilalf, and I would not lose you to your foolishness."

I hung my head at that," He paused looked at me. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, "Does it surprise you that one as old as I could be so foolish Legolas? It does. I see it in your eyes. Well, take care then that you are never caught in pride's snare. I am old and wiser that many, but it does not excuse me from being fallible. Here now, that is enough of a story. What say we close the day with song?"

He began singing, then, a song of wonder at the wisdom of the ages. It had a simple melody and words that rolled easily off the tongue, and both Ereglin and I could harmonize with it with ease.

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Well, that is all for now, dear friends. Your feedback is coveted and always most welcome. Take a minute and let me know your thoughts.


	30. Chapter 31

_It has been a long time since I wrote last. I hope the muse has not forgotten her task. Thank you for all your encouragement!_  
_When we left our friends, Legolas and Ereglin were with Istuilalf, tromping about the woods, learning the Song of the Forest. We meet them there today. . ._

When we woke the next morning, the air smelled of snow. Low grey clouds covered the sky and a brisk breeze made the morning fire dance and crackle. Ereglin and I stood close to the fire wrapped in our blankets. I quietly hummed the warming song to myself, so I wasn't too badly off, but Ereglin was silent and looked miserable. Istuilalf, of course, seemed unfazed by the weather. His eyes laughed at Ereglin as he surveyed his discomfort.

"It's not fair, Istuilalf. You don't even look cold!" said Ereglin, grumbling a bit.

Istuilalf chuckled, but then said kindly, "It's been many long-years since I've had to sing the warming song out loud, but you are young yet. There is no harm in admitting you need to give it voice, Ereglin. You'll be much warmer if you do." Istuilalf bent and stirred the porridge. "If you're not going to sing, at least eat something."

Ereglin blushed to the tips of his ears, but he reached for the bowl.

Istuilalf served me some breakfast and then paused to take a long look at the sky. Several small flakes of snow blew down on his upturned face. He looked at me, "Now, Legolas, what do you see?"

I peered into the grayness. "The clouds are low, and it smells like snow, although it really seems too early in the season for it."

Istuilalf nodded. "A little early snow is harmless, but I don't like the look of those clouds. Finish eating and we'll be on our way."

I blew on my porridge and ate quickly. We packed up our things and got underway, moving with more haste than was normal.

I had expected Istuilalf to lead us southwest to home, some two day's travel away, but instead he struck out in an easterly direction. He followed a deer trail which made walking easy. We passed maples that had dropped many of their leaves, as well as oaks, which held on to their russet covering until much later in the season. We took the trail along a ridge and then down through several valleys filled with birch. Their golden leaves lay scattered on the ground, their white trunks looked stark and almost luminescent in the gray light.

The snow continued to fall intermittently during the morning, and Istuilalf helped to pass the time by explaining to us the weather signs that he was reading. He also led us in singing the warming song in his sweet tenor voice. Ereglin got over his reluctance and joined in. The singing did warm us, and made the time pass more quickly.

After lunch, the snow came down in earnest. Fat wet flakes stuck to the branches of the trees and blew before our faces. It melted as soon as it touched our warm bodies and soon our cloaks were wet and heavy. I pulled my hood over my head, but the flakes still landed on my face and eyelashes, making it hard to see.

"Where are we going?" I asked Istuilalf at last. The light was giving way to the subtler tones of the late afternoon. The temperature had continued to hover near freezing, and my words came out with steam from my breath.

"It's my hope," he said, slowing a little as he spoke, "to get to the boundaries of Mirkwood by sunset. There are some caves in the bluffs near the Forest River that might afford us some shelter from the snow. We'll wait out the storm there, then head upriver to your father's Halls."

By the time we reached the river bluffs the wet snow had soaked through my clothing and I was chilled to the bone. Ereglin had sung bravely for most of the afternoon but when I looked at him, he looked as miserable as I felt. Istuilalf led us along the base of the bluff, taking care not to get too close to the rushing river water. He paused several times to peer through the gloom for some sign of a cave, but to no avail.

It was Ereglin who finally found a cave. Its entrance was a long gash in the rocks, some four feet high, half hidden under a shelf of rock. We had to stoop to get in, but the ceiling soon lifted to a point where we could stand. At first we huddled together, breathing heavily and sniffling. After a moment I pulled the hood of my cloak from my head and tried to get a sense size of the cave. It seemed that we were in a room some four paces square. The opening spanned one full side of the cave, but the overhanging rock formed a deep portal to protect us from the elements. It was not too large, but it would do.

"We need wood," said Istuilalf at last. "The opening to the cave is broad enough that I think we can light a fire safely in here. We'll need to go out again to fetch it." He slung his pack down from his shoulders and we followed suit. I regretted setting my bow down while it was so wet, but I had nothing to dry it with.

Wordlessly we trudged back up into the forest and cast about for some deadfall to make a fire. We hauled several loads. Then we built a fire, turning the wood so that the dry side was exposed. It took Istuilalf quite awhile to kindle a flame, and then the wood hissed and smoked until I thought we would have to abandon the cave for the smoke. When the wood finally caught, the smoke subsided, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

As soon as the cave had a chance to warm, Istuilalf insisted that we strip off our wet things and wrap ourselves in our blankets. These had been tightly rolled and stuffed in our packs, so they were only moderately wet. As the heat from the fire began to seep into my bones I began to feel quite drowsy. Istuilalf made us stand and turn before the fire warming one side and then the other until we were dry. I found myself nodding off as I stood.

"Legolas, sit down before you fall," said Ereglin at last, "Istuilalf and I will find something for supper." Wordlessly I obeyed and sat cross legged on the floor while Ereglin rummaged in the packs.

We dined that night on damp waybread and handfuls of nuts and berries. I revived a bit as we ate.

"How long will this storm last Istuilalf?" I asked after I had eaten, "Will we have to stay in this cave for long?"

"Long enough to dry your clothes completely," said Istuilalf "but as to the storm I can't really say. The weather can be unpredictable this time of year. It could snow for several days or clear off tomorrow. You did a nice job today, Legolas. We needed to make good time to get to this cave by dusk and you and Ereglin both did well. Now spread out your things closer to the fire. I'll tell you a story before you go to sleep."

Ereglin and I quickly complied. When we were done, Ereglin settled cross legged next to me and I stretched out on my belly to listen. The fire was cheerful, and I could tell from his voice that Istuilalf would have a happy story for us this evening.

"Once, many long-years before you were born," he began, "there were many who sang the Deep Songs. We would gather together, often beneath the silver stars and open our hearts to the melodies of Arda. . .

The story continued, but I did not hear it. I felt warm and safe and, lulled by the cadence of Istuilalf's voice, I soon fell fast asleep.

When I stirred the first time, Istuilalf was still awake, putting a log on the dying fire. There was a new sound outside of the cave and I struggled to figure out what it was.

"Be at peace, little one," said Istuilalf, "The temperature has risen again and it is raining. We are dry in here, now go back to sleep."

I listened to the hush of the rain. It must have been coming down fairly hard to be so well heard in the cave, but I obediently put my head down again and was soon sleeping.

The second time I woke it was with dreams of swimming in my mind. Ereglin and I were at the lake and we were finding rocks in the shallow water. The water was bitterly cold. I woke as I sat up to get out of the water. The sound of the rain had been replaced by a rushing sound, like a great deep wind, almost a groaning. Even as I sat the water swirled around me, covering my legs.

"We must get out." It was Istuilalf's voice, calm and commanding. "This cave is far too near the river to be safe in a hard rain like this."

The fire hissed and died completely. I stood and reached around to find my bow, my clothing, anything. My hands closed on swirling water. It was up past my knees. I turned, looking for the entrance to the cave. I could see nothing, but I could hear the rain coming down.

A warm hand slid into mine and held me firmly. "I am here, Legolas." It was Ereglin. He put an arm around my shoulders and moved me towards the entrance. "Istuilalf, where are you?"

"Over here, Ereglin. When you get out of the cave turn to the left. Follow the trail we took to get the wood. When we get to high ground we'll try to build another fire. We'll figure out what to do then." Istuilalf was nearby, I could hear the water splashing as he moved.

The water was up past my waist in the short time it took to reach the entrance to the cave. There clearance between the water and the overhang of stone was all but gone. I could feel the current flowing strongly around my legs.

"I've got you, Legolas," said Ereglin again, "Hold on and dive to make sure that your head clears the entrance." I squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. Without waiting, I immersed myself in the river and began to swim. The current was strong, and at first I feared that I would miss the entrance and be pinned against the side of the cave. I pressed forward and let go of Ereglin so that I could swim better. The water pulled me and I pushed back with long, strong strokes. The river was filled with sticks and leaves and was frighteningly cold.

I swam underwater until I could hold my breath no longer. I came up gasping for air. "Ereglin!" I called, "Istuilalf!"

There was no answer, only the roar of the water and the drumming of the rain.

"Legolas!" I finally heard Ereglin calling, distant, and off to my right. I yelled his name over and over, and we swam towards each other until our bodies touched. I grabbed his arm with a tight grip. I would not let go again.

The current pulled us towards the center of the river. It was hard to swim against it. There was an interminable time of struggling to keep my head above water. I swallowed great quantities of the river. My legs tangled with Ereglin's as we thrashed. I felt like I was encased in ice and my chest began to ache with the effort of breathing.

A large branch from a tree nearly struck us unawares. It had also been caught in the storm and bore down on us with alarming speed. Ereglin grabbed it with one hand and wrestled with it until the both of us could hold it firmly and use it to float.

It was only after I stopped struggling that I realized again how very frigid the water was. My teeth began to chatter. It was so painfully cold.

"We've got to get to shore," I yelled over the raging storm, "Do you think if we kick together we could make the banks?"

"We'll have to hang on to the branch, otherwise we'll go under."  
We floundered helplessly, struggling to move our ungainly arrangement towards the shore. A great bluff with water lapping at its base kept us from landing. Ereglin tried unsuccessfully to gain a handhold on its steep incline. We were dashed against it repeatedly and narrowly escaped being pinned between the branch and the rock. Finally the bluff gave way to a rocky shore.

The branch began to drag on the stones and Ereglin and I soon got our feet under us. The rocks were sharp, but my feet were too numb to feel the cuts that they made.

Once we were out of the water we faced yet another challenge. The rain was abating, but the air was still frosty and neither one of us were dressed. I hobbled to higher up the bank which was covered with low grass. Ereglin followed. We said not a word, but began walking back upriver to the cave.

I don't know how long we walked. Time seemed to narrow into one cold step after another. Eventually the rain stopped and the sky began to clear. We moved as swiftly as we could, but we could not dispel the cold. A chill wind blew, freezing my hair making it lie stiffly on my back. Our singing sounded small and hollow in the chill air.

"Ereglin," I said at last, "I am too cold and tired. Can't we just rest for a bit?"

"If we slow down, we'll freeze for sure, Legolas. Come. Let me put my arm around you. We can walk a bit further."

We continued on our way. After a time, our singing subsided. It was just too cold to sing.

"Ereglin?"

"Yes, Legolas?"

"What happened to Istuilalf? Will we find him?"

Ereglin looked away. He didn't want to lie to me.

The silence stretched between us.

"Look, Legolas," he said at last, "the stars are out."

"Can we stop for a minute and look at the stars? My legs are getting so tired."

Ereglin sighed and stopped. "We can stop for a minute, Legloas, but you've got to promise me that you won't go to sleep. Sleeping now would be the death of us for sure."

"I'll stay awake, I promise." We were walking by a cluster of maples. I stumbled towards a large tree and sat with my back against the trunk. The ground was still wet from the rain, but I was too cold to care much. Ereglin sat beside me. The steam from our breath mingled as we looked up at the stars.

Clouds still hid the eastern breadth of the sky. They were dark but silver edged. The moon was rising, rimming the edge of the clouds in light. I could feel my breathing and my heart pumping in my body, but the rest of me had gone numb. My fingers felt large and clumsy. I could no longer feel my feet. The icy cold of the water had been distressing. This cold was stronger, surrounding me with a fierce strength and weight that leaned on my _fea,_ making it hard to think or speak. A stray thought crossed my mind and held.

"Ereglin?"

"Yes, Legolas?"

I struggled to put into words to the thought. My tongue felt stiff in my mouth. I knew that we were in serious trouble, but I couldn't think of what to say. "Nadar says," I said finally, "that when my mother died, she went to be in Mandos' halls so that some day she could come back and be with me. He said it was because she married a Sindarin that she was able to do this. Do you think that's true?"

"Honestly?" I could tell Ereglin was having a hard time speaking as well.

"Yes."

"Honestly," he said, hunching into himself further, "I think that when you die your spirit is reunited with the spirit of the forest."

I curled up as well, and considered his words for a moment. "But what if you're Sindarin and you don't come from the forest?"

"Well, then maybe what they say about Mandos' Hall is true."

There was nothing but the sound of our breathing for a time.

"Ereglin?" I asked finally. I had question for Istuilalf, but he was not with us, "Where will I go if I die?"

Ereglin looked at me intently. I could just make out his eyes in the starlight. "Your not going to die, Legolas. We'll get out of this somehow." Ereglin's words were for comfort, but his voice was distressed. I knew that he wanted to take care of me, but didn't know how.

The full moon glided out from behind the clouds. Looking around I could see that the rain had frozen along every branch and twig of the trees that surrounded us. They sparkled in the moonlight like a thousand jewels.

"_This may be the last thing I see_," I thought to myself, surprised at how the thought of death did not alarm me. "_I'm glad that it's so beautiful."_

"Are you cold, Legolas?"

"Not so much anymore."

"I think we should sing the warming song again. That will help."  
I smiled at Ereglin and moved over so that we were snuggled side by side. I wanted him to know that he was helping me.

We began to sing together. We sang until our voices were rough.

We sang until we fell asleep.


	31. Chapter 32

_It feels great to be writing again. Your insights and critiques are most welcome. What else can I do to improve my writing? I hope you enjoy this chapter._

It was the pain that finally roused me. My limbs felt like they were on fire. My eyes flew open and I cried out. The sound was swallowed by the darkness. There was light, but so little of it. It flickered dimly against a great wooden beam high over my head. "_Mandos' Halls, then," _I thought to myself. I was surprised at how disappointed I was. But oh, the pain! I closed my eyes and groaned.

The hands that touched me were small but strong. A soft cap was slipped on my head and a blanket, no doubt warmed by the fire, was spread over me. An odd, almost animal smell met my nostrils. I was too tired to open my eyes.

"You'll be fine, I'm thinkin'." His voice was low and rough, "It's a wonder you didn't freeze to death, I've never seen the like. Your skin will burn a bit as it gets to warmin' up, but you'll be fine. No frostbite from the looks of it. There's a good fella. Don't try to get up." He pressed me firmly back down. The pillow behind my head was so soft, and the blanket so warm. My skin began to tingle and I wanted to cry.

Some time passed before I woke again. I found that I had been set on a small bed near a great stone hearth. The fire was low, but not banked. I gazed at the flames trying to make sense of where I was. There was a shuffling nearby. When I turned my head I started with fright. The figure peering at me was the most grotesque face I had ever seen. His hair was gray and wispy. His skin hung in wrinkled folds upon his face. His dark eyes shone brightly in the firelight. When he smiled his teeth were crooked and quite yellow. There was bushy hair growing out of his face. A small shiver trickled down my spine. Not Mandos, then, but a Man! Perhaps I was not dead after all.

"You awake now? I've got a fresh blanket for you, then maybe some tea?" The cold air hit me as one blanket was pulled off, only to be replaced by a freshly warmed one. "This tea has lavender and a bit of apple. It's for warmin' you from the inside." He slipped one bony arm beneath my shoulders and helped me up to drink from a battered ceramic cup. "Not too much, there, your doin' fine."

"Ereglin?" I asked, after sipping several mouthfuls of tea, "Where's Ereglin?"

"Not so perky as you, that's for sure, but he'll mend. I've got him tucked in over on my bed. You see him there in the corner?"

I stretched to look. There was a heavily bundled figure on the bed. I looked again at the Man.

"You're sleeping in my son's bed," said the Man, "But don't worry, he's not here right now."

I stared at the Man. He gazed back at me. All of a sudden I was tongue tied. I had always wanted to meet a Man, but now that I had, I didn't know what to say. The Man finally nodded, "Seumas, I'm called. He's Ereglin? An' what do they call you?"

"My name is Legolas," I said.

"Well, Legolas, I don't know how you came here, especially in the state you're in, but it was a good thing I fetched my water early today, or you would have frozen for sure. You were nearly in the lane, by the maples. At first I thought you were dead. Sure wish my son were here to help move you, but I managed it myself, I did. I noticed you were elves straight off. Some others might have left you there, but I traded with Mirkwood folk for many years, so I know something about elves. I figured there must be some magic at work. If I could just warm you up a bit, good luck might come from helping you."

"You've traded with Mirkwood?"

"From the time I was a boy," said Seumas proudly, "Elves always brought us luck. I learned your language when I was no older than you are now, and I traded 'till I'd saved enough to keep me and my son in this cottage."

"Did you find Istuilalf as well?" I asked hopefully. "He wasn't with us, but he might be nearby. We fell in the river near a cave."

Seumas frowned, "The caves are a good hour's walk from here. I can go lookin' if you like, but you slept off the day. Can't see a thing at night. I'll go in the morning."

Ereglin stirred and Seumas pulled a blanket from beside the fire and went to tend to him.

"Ereglin," I called, "wake up. We're not dead after all."

"I'm awake Legolas, but I feel like my legs are on fire! How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," I lied, "at least we're warm and dry."

I've seldom slept as soundly as I did that night. It seemed like mere moments before I heard Seumas stirring and opening the shutters. The windows were of glass as they were back home, but they were thick and the glass was rippled. The morning sun shone brightly with a sharp timbre. I guessed that it was quite cold outside. I looked eagerly around the Man cottage. It was small; the two beds and the table took up much of the space. The furniture was rough hewn with none of the grace of elfin work. The walls themselves were oddly made from logs stacked one atop the other with mud daubed in between. A long shelf ran the length of one wall. It was laden with an assortment of pots, dishes and tools. The broad stone mantle spanned the back of the cottage. The fire crackled merrily within. I felt guilty being tucked inside when Istuilalf might still be out in the elements, but there was nothing to be done for it.

I worried for a time that Ereglin and I would be confined to bed as we had nothing on, but Seumas climbed a ladder to a loft over our heads and came down with a bundle of clothes.

"These are my son's," he explained, as he set the clothes on my bed, "You may have to look a bit to find something that fits, but you are welcome to it."

I had no trouble outfitting myself with breeches and a shirt, but the clothing was cut for someone small. Seumas finally gave Ereglin a pair of his own breeches, and an old shirt in need of mending. Ereglin was slender enough, but his arms and legs were way too long for the fit. I thought he looked quite funny in his Man clothes. Ereglin scowled at me when he caught me looking at him and I had to laugh. It felt good to be up.

Seumas had only two chairs at his table. He insisted on standing as Ereglin and I ate. We were ravenous and soon finished the cheese and bread set out for us. I was disappointed that there was no more food. Shivering had made me very hungry.

"I'll go out lookin' for your friend as soon as we're done here," said Seumas as we ate. "I've got some hunting to do as well today, now that you're here. I want you to promise me that you'll stay in and keep warm. After a spell like yesterday, you'll be more sensitive to the cold. Let things warm up a bit before you go outside."

I started to protest, but Ereglin looked at me, "You know he's right, Legolas. I'd like to look for Istuilalf as well, but we are hardly dressed for the weather. I've got you to look after now, and I don't plan to put you in harm's way. Istuilalf has been around for a long time. There's a good chance he hasn't come to any harm."

I wanted to believe him, but the river had been so strong and so dark and so cold. I was afraid that Istuilalf was gone forever. I looked down at my hands. They were still swollen and red. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't trust myself to speak.

The first day that Seumas left us would have been interminable but for the fact that Ereglin and I were still recovering. We took turns napping by the fire and warming blankets for one another. Seumas returned in the mid afternoon with a pair of coneys. Ereglin and I chopped some onions and thick carrots while Seumas cleaned his catch. I was happy to fill my belly with hot stew that night.

Seumas turned out to be a fine storyteller and kept us entertained that evening with stories from his trading days. He was not as well travelled as Taenor, having kept his trade near Laketown, but he had met all kinds of interesting people. Men sounded a lot like elves in many ways, save that they seemed to be more hot tempered and very short lived. Ereglin shared a few stories of his own, and I was able to sing. It was late when we turned in.

The second and third day went much as the first, save that Ereglin and I slept less each day. Seumas assured us that staying was no burden on him. He went out of his way to make us comfortable. Each morning he took his bow, put on his cloak and left us alone in the cabin. Each afternoon he returned with game for the pot. In his travels he found no trace of Istuilalf.

On the fourth day Ereglin and I talked about how to get home. The winter weather had abated, but we both knew that it might return at any time with a vengeance. We laid our plans during the day, and spoke to Seumas as soon as he returned.

"But you've only just gotten here!" he protested when we told him our plans, "You've only just come and it's been so lively in the evenings. I thought maybe you could stay. You could stay until spring at least? Winter is such a long season."

"I've got to get Legolas back to his father," said Ereglin, "Surely you understand."

"I understand," said Seumas somberly, "Tomorrow I'll take you to Lakeville in the wagon. We can get there in a day and a half if the roads are good. I don't know if there will be a trading caravan going into Mirkwood this late in the season. That would be the safest way to travel. They aren't regular this time of year, but there might be one. If not, you are welcome to come back here for the winter. My son's not here, or he could travel with us to town. He always likes to travel, you know."

Ereglin and I looked at one another. If there was a trading caravan going to Mirkwood all would be well. If not, we would lose valuable time travelling to and from Lakeville. Winter was going to be early this year. We had seen enough of that already!

"We're about three day's walk from Thranduil's Halls as it is," said Ereglin, "With good cloaks and some supplies I think that Legolas and I could make it on foot. Could you help with that?"  
Seumas pulled out a chair from the table. He sat down and put his head in his hands, "I could help you, you know," he said finally. "I do have some extra cloaks. You don't have to leave tomorrow, do you?

"We should be on our way," said Ereglin firmly.

Seumas sniffed and wiped his eyes with his thumb. "Well, then, that's good," he said decisively, although there was a wavering in his voice, "Let's get these birds butchered and then we can eat." He picked up a knife from its place on the mantle and left the cabin to clean the birds.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear. I woke feeling rested and refreshed. I dressed quickly then left the cabin and climbed high into a large pine that grew near the cabin. From near the top I could see the river, slicing like a silver ribbon through the foothills. The caves and bluffs that had caused us so much trouble were almost lost in the haze of the morning. I knew that beyond them lay the path towards home. I was eager to be on our way. Soberly, I climbed down from the tree. It would be a good day for travelling, but there would only be two, not three of us going home.

Seumas was as good as his word. He rummaged in the loft and came down with two warm cloaks. I took the smaller one and Ereglin set the other one on his shoulders. There was no pack, but Seumas found us a small bag for a loaf of bread and a small wheel of cheese. He also gave us a knife.

"You will return it someday?" he asked as we stood outside the cabin ready to depart. I nodded. "Why don't you wait inside for a bit while I find you some boots?"

Ereglin clapped him on the shoulder, "Legolas is quite used to going barefoot, and I will do fine."

"So, you're going to leave now?"

Ereglin nodded, "That's the plan. I'm sure your son will return soon."

"But wait!" Seumas' shoulders slumped. He rubbed his hands nervously. "Don't you understand?" There was a pleading, desperate tone to his voice.

"What is it you want?" I asked gently. It troubled me to see a Man so upset.

"I want my son to come back to me," said Seumas. He was almost in tears. "Can't you grant me that little bit of luck? I have traded with your kind for many years, and I've never asked for anything. Can't you do just this one thing for me?"

"Where is your son?" I asked, thinking that we could perhaps get word to him. His father obviously missed him very much.

Seumas rubbed his face and chewed on his lower lip. His shoulders began to shake. "He's dead," he whispered at last, "He died summer before last of spotted fever and I buried him by the maples where I found you." He looked at me earnestly. His eyes were pleading, "I thought maybe you were there to bring me luck. I thought if I helped you, you could bring me luck. Can't your magic help me just this once? Please bring me my son?"

I looked at Seumas, astonished. Did he actually believe that elves could bring back the dead? He looked so vulnerable standing there, his gray hair wisping around his head, his wrinkled face contorted in sorrow. He was so disfigured and helpless. My heart went out to him. "There is no power I know that can bring back the dead," I said, "but I will ask my father if someone can visit you often. Maybe I could even come myself." It was a small thing, something that I thought my father would be happy to grant.

My offer was met with a moment of silence. "You would do that?" said Seumas in a small voice at last. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, then shrugged and gave a crooked smile. "You would send someone to visit an old man like me in the winter? Last winter was so bad, so very long and lonely."

"Be at peace," said Ereglin, "Legolas stands by his word. Let us go now, and take your request to the King."

"The King of Elves?" asked Seumas, "but what would he have to do with me?"

"He is my father," I said. And with that we said our goodbyes, turned and began making our way along the trail.

At first we made good time. Our plan was to follow the river to home. A deer trail took us nearly to the bluffs. Ereglin wanted to skirt the area of the cave, but I insisted. I wanted to see if anything was left. We arrived at the cave at mid day. There was nothing to mark the tempest that had taken Istuilalf's life. The entrance to the cave was well away from the water. We disturbed an egret as we approached. Its white wings contrasted sharply against the blue sky. I looked at Ereglin then ducked under the entranceway to enter the cave.

After my eyes adjusted to the dim light I looked across the cave's floor. It was smooth and empty as though we had never been there. There was not even a mark left where the fire had been.

"Did you find anything?" asked Ereglin, following me into the cave.  
I shook my head, "Nothing is here, Ereglin. It's as though that night never happened." I peered into the corners of the cave. For a moment I thought I saw a bit of cloth, but it proved to be a smooth stone, swirled into a pattern by the water.

"Istuilalf is not here either," said Ereglin. I nodded. He had been swept away by the water. My heart was heavy within me. He could not have lived. The water and the cold were too much for us. It would have been too much for him as well.

Tears clouded my eyes as I returned to the entrance of the cave. I almost didn't hear Ereglin's exclamation of joy.

"Legolas, look here!" he cried.

I peered into the darkness. "What is it Ereglin?"

"This crevice caught something. It's my leggings! Oh Legolas, I can't believe it! I can wear clothes that fit again!"

"Your going to wear them after they've been stuffed in a crevice for four days?"

"Well, they are wet, and a little muddy, but they are mine!"

I had to laugh. It was good to see Ereglin happy again. "Is there anything else?" I asked, "Maybe some way bread to see us on our way?"

"No, I don't think so," said Ereglin, "Just some branches. Wait a minute. Let me check. Legolas, I think one of our bows is in here. I think it may be yours."

I grinned. Even without arrows it would be good to hold my bow again. I had held my bow for so many miles I felt bereft without it. "Are there any arrows?" I asked. I took the bow from Ereglin and hefted it in my hand. It felt right and good to hold it again.  
"Just a couple of loose ones, and they're long. I think they're mine," he responded. Still a bow and arrow might serve us well on the way home, even if they were mismatched.

When we emerged from the cave with our prizes, I was much happier than I'd anticipated. We had lost everything in the flood and the few remnants that we carried lifted my spirits quite unexpectedly. I blinked as the daylight hit my eyes. The woods were around me once more. I tilted my face up and drank in the Song of the forest. The day was cool but not cold. The trees, released from the weight of autumn leaves raised stark and sturdy branches to the sky. A mixture of birds and squirrels moved through the canopy, each about their appointed task. I closed my eyes and opened my heart even wider. Taking deep breath, I savored the smells of autumn. The soil was moist and loamy from the rain. The smell of the river was rich and fresh. I could feel the tone of the day. It would be a good day for walking.

When I opened my eyes, Ereglin was watching me. He had a somber look on his face.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know how you can look so happy, Legolas. Don't you realize that if Istuilalf were alive he would probably have been waiting here for us or at least left a sign? We found nothing in the cave. Don't you see what this means?" His voice faltered, "Someone should sing lamentations for him. He didn't survive the flood."

I stared at Ereglin. His words made sense to my head but not to my heart. The woods were singing of sweet satisfaction. Nothing clouded the joy. I could not enter in to Ereglin's sorrow.

"Maybe you're right," I said slowly, "but he said that he'd meet us up where we collected wood. Maybe we should look there."  
Ereglin shook his head, "We've already spent too long here. We need to be on our way." He sighed, "We can sing lamentations as we walk."

For some reason I felt that it was important not to leave too quickly. I wanted to partake of the Song again. "Ereglin, we can't go yet. We need to take some time to look around."

Ereglin looked at me. It was the second time that day that I had overruled him. He scowled. "Look, I'm your _meldir_, he said, "and I'm in charge of getting you home safely. We need to get going."

I crossed my arms across my chest. The thought of leaving sowed discord in my heart. "I'm your prince," I said firmly, "and we need to look around."

Ereglin glared at me. I glared back. Finally, he dropped his eyes. "We can go to where we gathered wood, then, but no further."

I shrugged and turned to make my way up the steep slope of the bank. When I didn't hear Ereglin behind me I looked back. He was spreading out his leggings to dry in the sun. I smiled to myself. It was going to be a fine day.

There was a copse of birch at the top of the trail hedging pine and maple further in. By the time Ereglin joined me I had found a small path leading away from the river. We walked in silence for a few minutes. As we progressed there was a subtle shift. Finally I stopped and turned my head to listen. The trees were quiet and there was no noise from the animals in the canopy. There was no wind blowing through the branches. All was still. I felt a tingling start deep in my chest. It swelled within me, a silent song. I grinned broadly. I knew then the source of my joy.

Istuilalf? He was nearby. But could that be?

"Istuilalf!" I cried. I felt as though I were going to burst with happiness. I looked around, half expecting him to come striding from the forest, but there was no one there. I spied a cluster of pines ahead and I ran towards them. When I got there, I pushed through the branches. Their long needles slid against my body as I passed.

"Legolas, wait!" cried Ereglin, but I paid him no mind. There was a clearing amidst the trees. I knew that I would find him within, I just knew it! As I emerged from the branches, the pines towered on all sides of me creating a bower.

In the center of the clearing a dark figure came into view. It was Istuilalf. He lay on his back, his arms were folded neatly across his chest. He was as pale as the moon and as still as death. 


	32. Chapter 33

I heard Ereglin shoving his way through the pines, but I could not tear my eyes away from Istuilalf's still figure. Ereglin stopped right behind me and I heard him suck in his breath in disbelief.

"I don't understand," I whispered. "I was so sure we would find him here alive." The Song still thrummed in my heart, but my eyes would not let me listen. I took a tentative step towards the prone figure and set down my bow. Without looking away I knelt at Istuilalf's side. He was dressed in the clothes he wore the night of the flood. There was absolutely no movement of his chest. His eyes were closed. His lips were relaxed and slightly parted, as though he were preparing to speak or smile. But for the pallor of his skin, he might be sleeping.

Tentatively I reached out and touched Istuilalf's hand. It was stiff and cool to the touch. "This can't be!" I moaned in disbelief. My heart would not relinquish its hold on joy, yet my body was racked with sorrow. I bowed my head and wept.

I don't know what it was that moved me next. It was as though the Song itself poured through me. I looked at Istuilalf again. I looked at his quiet face. I looked at his arms folded neatly on his chest. Carefully, carefully I reached out my hands and grasped his wrists. At once I remembered holding Istuilalf's wrists once before; coming up from being deep in the kind waters of the river, coming up from the water being around me and over me and through me, coming up from being one with the river one with the life, one with the Song. "Do that again!" I had cried, the water still dripping from my face.

The Song crescendoed in my heart as I knelt beside Istuilalf. I could not hold it back. The joy rolled with the force of a storm, blowing as a tempest through me. "Istuilalf, help me!" I cried. I grasped his wrists more tightly. I didn't understand what was happening.

"Easy, Legolas," came a familiar voice, almost laughing. "I knew that you would find me eventually."

He was alive! He was awake and he was alive and he was speaking to me! I wept in earnest then. He sat up and embraced me and I held him tightly.

"Istuilalf, where have you been?" I demanded at last. "Seumas spent three days looking for you and you didn't leave anything in the cave and how did you get me to come to you? I thought you were dead!"

Istuilalf held me close. "You _thought_ I was dead, but you didn't _believe_ I was dead, little one," he said at last. "Your heart knew what your head did not." He rubbed my back as he had done when I was a young child. "I knew that if you listened to the Song it would lead you to me. Ah, Ereglin," he said, turning to my meldir, "can I trouble you for your cloak? I feel a bit chilled."

Ereglin lost no time removing his cloak and wrapping it around Istuilalf's shoulders. "Is one enough, or would you like Legolas' cloak as well?"

"One is plenty," responded Istuilalf, "although from the looks of things your arms and legs will soon be cold. Wherever did you get those clothes?"

Ereglin grinned and shrugged.

I hugged Istuilalf again and eagerly told him where we had been and what we had been doing.

"But what about you, Istuilalf? I asked at last. "How did you survive the flood?"

"I was trapped by the river as you were," Istuilalf explained, "but I was caught in an eddy that landed me on the banks almost at once. I scrambled for safety. I knew that there was no way to light a fire in the midst of the downpour, so I asked the forest for shelter and found my way here."

"Asked the forest for shelter?" queried Ereglin skeptically.

Istuilalf raised his eyebrows, "Ah, yes, little one. The woods can tell you many things if you know how to listen."

"So you've said before," said Ereglin, "but how –"

"With your heart, Ereglin!" I said impatiently. I was trying hard to figure out what Istuilalf was talking about, "Just as I listened to the joy in my heart and it drew me to you. Isn't that right?"

Istuilalf smiled at me then and nodded, "I see you begin to understand, Legolas. We are each of us crafted to know the Song, but there is much that keeps us from realizing what we know. The Song exists beyond words."

"It's music, isn't it Istuilalf?" asked Ereglin. I could tell that he was trying to understand.

"It's music and color and sights and smells and touch and hearing and feelings and all of that together in harmony!" I proclaimed, remembering the events of the day. I sighed, "and it was the Song that brought me to you, not just the joy?"

Istuilalf laughed and nodded. "There you have it, Ereglin. Legolas has described it as well as I ever could. Yes, Legolas, it was the Song. You have listened well."

I beamed with pride.

"But why did you look as though you were dead?" persisted Ereglin, "Why didn't you just listen to the Song and come and find us?"

"You remember how bitterly cold it was that night, Ereglin? The trees kept the winds off of me, but I was soaked to the skin. There was no way to build a fire. I decided then to sing the Deep Song of Unity, to rest as part of the forest for a time, until you could come and wake me."

"But what if we hadn't found you?" I asked, "What then?"

Istuilalf pursed his lips and looked at the sky. "Well, then, little one, my spirit would have left my body and become one with the forest. Actually," he shifted so that he could look me in the eye, "It was well you came when you did. I did not measure time while I slept, but my body seemed ever more distant."

I hugged Istuilalf again.

"Do you want us to build a fire for you?" asked Ereglin.

Istuilalf shook his head, "No, we'd best be on our way. I promised your fathers that we would return at the end of the season. After that storm, I don't doubt that they will be worried about you."

We retraced our steps to retrieve Ereglin's leggings and stopped long enough to enjoy lunch by the river. The water had returned to its familiar course. The sky was blue and there was the crisp tone of autumn in the air. Istuilalf seemed quite ready to put the whole incident behind us and told us funny stories that made us laugh. I could feel the laughter healing the tensions in my soul.

We were met by a search party half way to the Caverns. Ereglin's mother had felt that something was wrong and was half crazy with worry. Initially my father had dismissed her concerns, but after days passed with no word he also became troubled.

"Your father's got two companies looking for you," said Gaervorn as we got underway. "We were assigned to the river but there was no trace of you along the shores."

"We came from the other direction," I explained, "and really we are fine."

Two days later we entered the caverns. Word had gone ahead that we were returning. It seemed like the whole community turned out to welcome us home. At first I enjoyed all the attention, but then I felt overwhelmed. There wasn't nearly enough time to greet each person properly. I felt like they were greeting their Prince, not me. Aegiriel met us near the bridge. She scarcely looked at me, but grabbed Ereglin in a tight embrace. Her voice was distraught and carried over the murmur of the crowd.

"What happened to you, Ereglin? Your father and I were so worried about you! What were you doing out there during this storm? I've been so frightened!"

Boronel made his way to where we were standing, my father was also making a hasty approach. I was soon enveloped in my father's sturdy arms. I looked at Ereglin and he looked at me. I could only hope we were not in trouble. Ereglin murmured something to his mother. She held him close, I could hear the cadence of her voice talking to her son.

"Look at me, Thranduilion," the King said. I obeyed. "You are well?" I nodded. "Let's get you inside. I need to hear from you what happened. Istuilalf," he said, his was solemn, "Thank you for bringing these children back home safely."

"They are the ones you should be thanking, Thranduil," said Istuilalf. "They managed themselves well. Your son even saved my life." My father hugged me again and I winced. I really did not want any credit for that. It was the Song that had saved him.

I greeted as many people as I could as we made our way into the Caverns. Ereglin was given leave to depart with his parents while Istuilalf and I went directly to my father's apartments. I would have been delighted to savor a bath and a fresh change of clothes, but my father was impatient and would not wait. I soon found myself seated in one of the great chairs near the fire. My father was seated nearby. Istuilalf declined a chair. I think he was not comfortable being so far beneath the ground.

"Well, there really isn't much to tell," began Istuilalf, "We were caught in the storm that hit about a week ago. Ereglin and Legolas were rescued by a Man. After they had warmed up a bit they came to find me. Gaervorn found us a day or so later and here we are."

My father looked at Istuilalf for a long moment. I could tell that he knew Istuilalf wasn't telling the whole story. He turned to me and spoke quietly. "Tell me more, Legolas. How is it that you needed to be rescued?"

I didn't want to worry my father, but I knew that he would have the truth eventually, so I told him about finding the cave, about the storm, about the deep water and the river. I didn't tell him about my thoughts of dying, but I did describe the beauty of the moonlight on the ice. When I told him of Seumas and his need for company, my father nodded, but he did not speak. Reluctantly I continued, telling him of our decision to return on foot. I wasn't sure what to tell about finding Istuilalf, so I stopped talking and looked at my teacher.

"Legolas found me by listening to the Song, Thranduil," said Istuilalf. "He has, I think, extraordinary skills. I was deep in a trance for four days, and yet he was able to awaken me with great ease. With another season or two of training his sensitivity to the Woods will be very well established. When I take him with me next year –"

"Next year?" said my father, his voice incredulous. "Istuilalf, you led my son into a dangerous cave, abandoned him to the elements and needed _him_ to rescue _you_. I don't think there will ever be a next time!"

"But wait Ada!" I protested, "It wasn't like that at all!"

My father rose and stood eye to eye with Istulalf. I could tell that he was badly shaken. "I don't think you realize the significance of this event," he said, "Legolas is not just another Silvan child. He is the Prince of MIrkwood and can't be put at such risk again!" His voice rose as he spoke. "Tell me Istuilalf, what would have happened if the people had lost their Prince? What would have happened if I," his voice cracked, "If I had lost my son?"

"Be at peace, Thranduil," said Istuilalf quietly. He did not flinch but gazed calmly at my father. "Legolas was not in danger for his life. Didn't you hear me? He is a Listener. The woods are his. They would not let him come to harm. It was no accident that he settled by that maple. Seumas was no accident either. He is safe in the woods, Thranduil, and he has returned safely to you. We can talk of new adventures on another day. For now be happy to know that Ereglin and Legolas are home." Istuilalf's voice was soft and melodic. The silence that followed his words made me hopeful that he had been heard.

"He will not leave here again," said my father at last. There was a look of grim determination on his face.

"Not until you are ready, young one," said Istuilalf. "Now, be at peace."

Winter came in earnest a few days later. The temperature in the caves remained unchanged, but outside the world turned grey and dreary. We had no snow, but biting winds blew from the west driving us all indoors. I missed the outdoors and usually ventured forth every day, but I was often forced to retreat to the caves before too much time had passed.

I thought often of my family in the village during these times. At home, one of the autumn chores was to prepare the _gobel _or winter house for the village. This was a large structure built with birch framework and cured deer pelts. There were no windows in the _gobel_, but there were holes in the roof to allow the smoke from several fires to exit. In the coldest parts of winter the whole village would move into the _gobel_. With all those people, it was amazingly warm. I can remember well playing _hrithca_, a counting game, for hours with Brethilas while Nathel cooked savory stew and Nadar tried to best his neighbors at telling stories and singing songs. I wanted to talk with Istuilalf about this and other memories, but he had withdrawn to the beech, a bit too far for my daily walks. Ereglin was patient with me, but it took time to explain to him about the people and events. It was Ereglin who first noticed my homesickness.

"Legolas, where are you?" he asked one afternoon. We were in my room fletching arrows. The great shutters had been closed, and I found it difficult to align the feathers in the firelight.

"I'm right here, Ereglin. I was just looking at this shaft."

"You've been looking at the shaft for the last five minutes," He came over and sat beside me on the floor. "What were you thinking about?"

"Did you know that Nadar brought down a white buck three years ago?" I asked. "It was right before Midwinter. We needed to have a dance to honor its spirit, but it was so bitterly cold that we danced in the _gobel_. We cleared out all of our personal belongings, and lit a single fire. The rhythm of the dancers, their singing, the movement, it was like being immersed in a river of dance. The whole community got lost in the dance. We must have danced for hours! I had so much fun!" I sighed and looked at Ereglin. "Someday I need to take you to the village Ereglin. You could meet Brethilas and we could do things together. I do wonder how he's coming with the bow. We are almost the same age, you know."

"Winter is going to be long if you are spending it in your dreams," said Ereglin, "Why don't you ask your father if we could make a trip to your village? Amondorn is gone and we don't see Istuilalf very often. You are without a teacher for now. It would be a good time to go."

I set my arrow down and stood up and stretched. "I am growing weary of these caverns," I said. "I'll do it. What harm could there be in the asking?"

I didn't have a chance to ask my father anything until the next morning after breakfast. I had learned from experience that he was much more amenable after he ate. He also liked to have me nearby.

"Ada," I said after we had finished eating, "I have a very important question for you." I stood and came around by his side so that he would listen to me.

He put down his knife and wiped his mouth with a napkin."Yes, nethben?" He took a sip of juice and then looked at me.

I looked at him carefully and then plunged in. "Ereglin and I were wondering how soon I could visit my village? If we bundled up and went by horse it wouldn't take very long. I could see Naneth and Nadar again and Brethilas and I could teach Ereglin how to play _hrithca. _I think that Brethilas would like Ereglin a lot." I had my father's attention. "You could come too, if you wanted."

My father sighed and put down his glass. He took my two hands into his. There was a stern, sad look on his face.

"Legolas, I need to talk with you about your travels." He looked down and seemed to search for words. When he looked at me again I saw determination in his eyes. "Istuilalf meant well by you and he of all people should have been able to keep you safe. But he did not, he could not." He sighed. "I was so sure that you would be safe if I kept you from the Enemy, but I see now that there are other dangers that await you." He paused. "Legolas, you won't be going to the village this winter. You are the Prince and it's imperative that we keep you safe. You'll need to stay here at the keep."

"Here at the keep, Ada? For how long? Can I go in the spring? Would you come with me?"

My father gazed at me for a moment, then shook his head. "Not this spring, nethben. Children should be protected and stay near their home until they are grown. It was one thing to let you stay with Istuilalf for the summer. Quite another for me to allow you to wander the countryside while you are so young. It was irresponsible of me, Legolas. It won't happen again."

I looked at my father's face trying to see some room for negotiation."I miss my family, Nadar, Nathel and Brethilas." I pled, "You can't keep them from me! I need to see them."

My father's face darkened, "I am your family, Legolas." He tried to pull me into an embrace, but I resisted. "Over time you will come to understand."

It was too much for me. "That's not right!" I yelled. I turned and fled. My father did not follow.


	33. Chapter 34

My father was as good as his word, and I was not allowed to wander again until I came of age. Instead of acquiescing to my boundaries, I harbored a deep resentment that strained our relationship at times. After some years, he did see the wisdom in allowing Istuilalf to guide me, but we were never far from the keep. Nothing could keep me from delving ever deeper into my love of the forest, but in my dreams I always found cause to wander. Often it was to my home in the village, at times it was to new horizons. Someday, I promised myself, I would travel and there would be none to gainsay me.

When at last the time came, preparations for my coming of age ceremony began in earnest. Elves are seldom prolific in their progeny and the fact that I was an only child and a prince at that ensured that the celebration would be unforgettable. After much negotiation it was decided that a week would suffice for the celebration. I think that many would have preferred a fortnight or more, but I begged my father not to let the celebration go on that long. I was the Prince, yes, but being the center of attention for that much time could be a trial under the best of circumstances. Fortunately, my father was sympathetic to my cause, and so a week was decreed. The first three days, leading up to the advent of my begetting day were to be spent in presentations of skill. There would be contests of knives and bow, wrestling and racing. Winners of each contest were to receive awards, these all had to be planned and commissioned. I was encouraged to participate in these events, and I had my eye on taking the award of the bow. My skills had increased greatly over the years and I felt very confident that I could master any task set before me.

The center of the celebration would be the begetting day itself. This was a solemn ritual that involved a good deal of ceremony. I was not looking forward to it, but Talagand was working on the music and lyrics for the day and I trusted him not to overburden the event. My studies with him had gone well. In spite of Istuilalf's warning that I would need to choose my path musically, I found that study of both the Silvan and Sindarin styles of music well suited me. I loved learning the songs of the Woods, but the more formal training, with voice, harp and flute gave me fresh insights into the Song that I would not have otherwise had.

The final three days were to be spent celebrating in dance and song. Each of the villages was sending a group of performers to contribute to this event. Talagand was adamant that I should participate in the singing at the very least. We spent no little time debating which songs would be the most appropriate. Finally we settled on two pieces, one from the Woods and one from the keep. They were good songs, but one of them had several notes just out of my range, so there was also a great deal of training to be done.

My begetting day was near midsummer and the first day of the feast dawned fresh and clear. I was up to greet the dawn, singing in the day in the rich tenor voice that still surprised me. Ereglin, as usual, ignored my singing and slept until the last possible minute before breakfast was delivered. I had long ago given up dining with my father in his room. I had never forgiven him for clipping my wings and I found that in the early morning I was not likely to hold my tongue. There was a knock at the door. Ereglin rolled to his feet and answered the door as though he'd been awake all along.

"Thank you Tirgon, " he said, receiving the meal, "I'll see to it now." He carried the tray of steaming food to the table and quickly set the meal. I had never outgrown my fondness for Sedeliel's rolls nor fresh fish with tea for breakfast, and if the meal was the same every day, at least it was good and satisfying. Ereglin knew his place well. He arranged things and then sat in the chair across from me. He helped himself to several rolls as I ate.

"Are you ready for today, Legolas?" he asked at length.

"It will be over in a week," I said, "Then I will be ready."

"Oh come on now, it's not that bad." He poured me another cup of tea, "The whole kingdom is roused to a high state of anticipation over the coming of age of the Prince. Surely you can't deny them their pleasure."

"I will not deny them their pleasure, Ereglin, but I don't relish being the center of attention for the next seven-day. Pass me the jam."

"Look, Legolas,it's not that bad." Ereglin was never one to allow me any discomfort. "Why don't we start the day with a visit to my mother's fire? I'm sure she'll be there. She'll get you off on the right foot."

I washed down my food with a swig of tea, "Aren't you supposed to be dressing the Prince for the day?" I asked. "What would they say if I wasn't ready on time?"

"You don't need to be dressed for two hours or more," replied Ereglin, "We can be there and back again in that time." He started putting the breakfast things back on the tray. "Get some clothes on. We're going."

I smiled to myself. Ereglin knew that two hours of waiting would do nothing good for my disposition. I pulled on my clothes from the previous day and brushed the tangles from my hair. Braiding would have to wait.

The path to Aegiriel's fire was so familiar I could have walked it in my sleep. Over the years Boronel and Aegiriel had become as close as family to me. Boronel's pragmatic advice had gotten me through many challenges, and Aegiriel was always warm and helpful.

We arrived at the fire in good time. Aegiriel stood and extended her hands in greeting. She wore a dress of dove grey that highlighted her eyes as she welcomed me. "Good morning, Legolas," she said, "All I have is yours."

"All I have is yours," I responded, taking her hands.

"You're up and about early for the day," said Boronel from his spot on the log. He was in the process of putting on his heavy soldiering boots, "I didn't think I'd see you before I left."

"You're leaving?" asked Ereglin, surprised, "but what about the Begetting Day celebrations?"

"The Enemy doesn't check for social niceties before attacking," said Boronel grimly. He gave his boot a tug. "Word from the South is that there is an incursion of orcs in the foothills. It's land they haven't claimed for over two hundred years. Thranduil's detailing three companies to move down there as soon as possible. Ours will leave today, the others by the end of the week.

"But you've not been home that long!" protested Ereglin, "This is the third rotation in the past five years."

"Fourth," said Boronel, "but enough of my troubles. I'm glad to see you, young Prince. I wasn't sure I'd be able to say goodbye to you, what with the celebration going on. You've got a lot of people eager to see you come of age, that's for sure."

I shrugged, "I'm eager to come of age, but not so eager for the celebration. I love our people, at least one at a time, but during this celebration I feel like I'll be on display for a week."

"Eh, you're a good Prince. I'm sure you'll rise to the occasion," said Boronel.

"I never asked to be Prince," I protested. Boronel raised his eyebrows. "…but I will have to make the best of it," I finished lamely.

"That's more like it," said Boronel. "I expect both of you to visit our fire frequently while I'm gone."

"I've done without you before," protested Alagriel. She handed Boronel a cup of tea. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down for a kiss.

"That's better," he said smacking his lips, "I'm going to miss you Alagriel."

"I'll be here when you return, Boronel," she said. "Mind your manners or there will be no waybread in your pack!"

Boronel's eyes were laughing. "See what I put up with?" he said. "Here I am ready to risk life and limb and my own wife deprives me of waybread. Some thanks I get!" He sobered. "No, wife, I do want Ereglin and Legolas to visit frequently. I know how despondent you become when I'm gone for long." He put a slender hand over his heart, "I feel it here when you are lonely."

She looked at him and smiled.

"How long until you leave, Ada?" asked Ereglin.

"My pack is almost ready. We march within the hour. The hope is to be gone before the celebration gets underway. We don't want to distract the people from their admiration of our Prince!"

"When will you be back?" I asked, embarrassed.

"When we've taught those orcs a thing or two," said Boronel. "It could be a couple of months, it could be longer. Lainethir says that this incursion is bad, at least as bad as he's seen in awhile."

"I'll take care of Naneth," said Ereglin, "Legolas and I both will." Boronel rose and embraced his son. "I know you will, Ereglin. I said goodbye to your sister last night. You'll keep an eye on her?"

"Yes, Ada."

Boronel crossed the clearing and embraced me as well. I was aware of his strength. The smell of sweet pines after the rain enveloped me. I hugged him tightly. A feeling of anxiety tugged at my senses, but I shoved it away. Boronel had been on many patrols over the years and had always returned safely. "Go in harmony with the Song." I said softly.

"I'll sing, but the harmony is for others, not for my rough voice!" said Boronel, laughing.

Ereglin and I left the clearing. Departures were difficult for Aegiriel and we knew that she needed to say her farewells in private.

Ereglin was a bit subdued while I dressed. I knew better than to try and pull him out of it. He took his father's charge very seriously. His parents had long ago determined that he would not serve as a soldier. It was the least he could do to care for those left behind.

"You look fine," he pronounced finally, when the last braid was in its place. "You'll be needing adult braids soon, and that will take some time at first, but for now I think you're ready."

I smoothed down my tunic. It was of a soft light green fabric with silver embroidery. I looked at Ereglin who was dressed in the formal livery of the keep. "I doubt I've ever pulled a bow with so much finery on. Do you think it will affect my aim?"

That won me a smile. "Legolas, the only thing that could affect your aim today would be if you broke your arm. Even then, I think you'd manage."

The crowds were thick as we made our way to the Midsummer Clearing where the contests were to be held. Everybody was dressed in their best, creating a riot of color against the early summer greens. The smell of baked goods filled the air. Many bakers had worked all night long for this day and the fruit of their labors was stacked high on long boards at the edge of the clearing. Mingled with the sounds of talking could be heard the songs of minstrels playing harp and pipe. The formal opening of the celebration was not until after lunch, to allow for those from outlying areas to arrive. A large dais with two ornate chairs had been set up at one end of the field. We were not detained too much as we crossed the clearing. Most of those who stopped us were people I knew who only had kind things to say, and wished me well for the contest ahead.

All in all, it was well that we arrived when we did. The bow contest was almost underway.

I quickly checked my arrows one last time before my name was called. Each one was fletched with the unique arrangement of green and white feathers that would identify the arrows as my own. Satisfied that they were ready, I took up my bow. It was a good bow, gifted to me by my father when I finished growing. It was well balanced with substantially more pull than my first bow. This bow was made of elm and hickory and sang a pleasing tone when released.

The first round of the contest was quite simple, shooting a fixed target from twenty paces away. No one was eliminated, but it was a good chance to see the others in the field. For the most part, they were young taurons like myself. Doronglas was there. He was from a village two days to the south. I noticed that he already wore the adult braids and held himself with the proud air of someone who had recently come of age. He was probably the most significant competition. Gaelin was there as well. She was smiling, but there was a sober look in her eyes. She knew that her father was departing. The rest I had met before, but only during the Midsummer games.

"They don't stand a chance," said Ereglin at my shoulder. "Even Gaelin admits that you are better at contest than she is."

"You just want me to win so that you can share in the honor," I said. "You should have entered and tried your own skill."

"I know my limits," he responded. "You'll need to win for both of us."

I grinned, "That's exactly what I intend to do."

The contest of the bow was really not a good indicator of how well I could shoot in the field. As tauron, it is important to listen to the animal, to come into harmony with the spirit of the creature. By listening, the tauron knows how to aim and the shot is almost always true. Learning to listen had been an important part of my training. Contests, on the other hand, used weighted bags made from the hides of small animals. They were generally thrown from the high branch of a tree. Without a spirit to aid me, I had to rely on my eyes to note the path of the target. I had to aim, draw and fire before it fell too far. Targets that hit the ground without an arrow were not counted.

The second round of the contest saw the elimination of half the field. I narrowly missed being disqualified myself. Doronglas' shot was solid, as was Gaelin's. The targets were fairly large, and my arrow had landed very near the edge of the target.

It was at the beginning of the third round that I saw my father watching me. He was dressed as King for the celebrations, but he nodded and smiled when he caught my eye. I knew that he wished me well, but I could not accept his kindness. I set my jaw and looked away. I would have liked to think that the incident caused me to shoot wide in the third round, but that would not be fair. I overcompensated for the fall of the arrow and it missed the target by a hairsbreadth. I could hear Ereglin suck in his breath from the sidelines. He would be more disappointed than I. Thankfully for Ereglin, Gaelin made it through the round and went on to place second. Doronglas took first place. It was a happy day for him, and I could be glad for that!

Actually, I was relieved to be done with the contest. Ereglin and I had the rest of the day to mingle and observe the other events. Unlike Midsummer, which was a Laegrin celebration, the coming of age celebration was Sindarin as well. There was archery and wrestling to watch. I've never cared much for wrestling, but the archery promised to be good. Archers are trained to shoot without listening, so they are able to hit some targets that a tauron could not.

"Who is that coming to shoot?" I asked Ereglin after watching awhile. A slender youth with shoulder length hair the color of dark honey had stepped forward and was sighting the target. He moved like a dancer. He fired at the target with almost casual nonchalance. The arrow hit dead on.

"His name is Talfil," said Ereglin.

"Why haven't I met him before?"

"He's only just come of age. I suppose he's been kept in his village until now."

I looked at Ereglin sideways. Mine wasn't the only overbearing father. "He doesn't look Laegrin." I said quietly.

Ereglin shook his head, "His father is Sindarin and fights in the same company as my father. His mother is Laegrin and lives in a village."

I looked at Talfil with new interest. Children of mixed parentage were not all that common. I noticed that Talfil seemed casual, but actually he was fully alert. All of his intentions were focused on firing the next shot. Again he hit the target dead on.

We continued to watch Talfil as he made his way through the trials. In the end he was paired against Aradagor, one of the most experienced archers I knew. Word of the contest had gotten around, and a large crowd was gathered to watch them shoot. First Aradagor took his place. The goal was to split a small apple that was tossed at random from one of three trees. Each contestant was given three tries. Aradagor pulled and shot with stern confidence.

"Score!" said the gameskeeper.

Aradagor pulled again.

"Score!" said the gameskeeper.

There was hardly a moment until a new arrow was in the air.

"Miss!" cried the gameskeeper. There was an audible moan from the crowd. Aradagor turned and bowed graciously.

Talfil stepped forward. A smile played at his lips. I could tell that he was enjoying himself.

"Score!" said the gameskeeper as the arrow hit the apple with a_ thwonk_.

There was a soft hiss and the sound of a string being released.

"Score!" he cried again a moment later.

A tense hush fell over the crowd. Talfil pulled and shot his last arrow so quickly that his movements were hard to follow.

"Score!" proclaimed the gameskeeper. A great shout went up. Talfil turned and acknowledged his victory with a small nod of his head. He was grinning broadly, but looked down almost as though he were unsure of himself. I knew that gesture. He was shy of the crowds.

"That's someone I'd like to get to know," I murmured to Ereglin.

"That's easily arranged," said Ereglin. He pushed through the crowd that had gathered quickly around Talfil and whispered in his ear. Talfil's eyes widened and he looked my way. I smiled and nodded encouragement. I remembered how lost I had felt my first day at the keep, and that was not a celebration day!

They made their way over to where I was standing.

"Legolas, may I present Talfil Crebruinion to you? Talfil, this is Prince Legolas."

Talfil extended his hand for the forearm to forearm grasp of soldiers. I did not embarrass him by pointing out that he should have bowed, but grasped his arm in greeting. Bright grey eyes met mine.  
"It is a joy to meet you at last," he said, before I could utter a welcome. "My father has spoken of you often."

"That was fine shooting," I said, wishing to dispense with the platitudes, "Who was your teacher?"

"My father taught me what he knows," said Talfil, "and the rest I figured out myself. It is really not that difficult if you go about it the right way."

"And what way is that?" I asked, "I doubt I could ever shoot as well as you did today."

Talfil frowned, "but I thought you were famous with your skills at the bow."

"I'm better than most my age," I said honestly, "but that's out in the field. Shooting at targets still needs work. I lost my contest today." I waited to see Talfil's response. I left him little room for false praise.

Talfil shrugged, "You'll need to work on it, then. If you like I'd be glad to help you."

"I'd like that," I said, impressed by his candor. "I'd like that a lot. Are you staying for the week?"

"I hope to stay longer," said Talfil. "I cut my hair the same day I came of age. I've come to train as a soldier if the King will have me."

"He'll have to take you. You've cut your hair. It can't be renounced. You're a soldier for life now."

"I know that, but he still may think I am too young. My father insisted that I stay in the village until I came of age. There is a lot I need to learn about serving the king before I can take up arms for him."

"You'll need to work on it," I echoed, "If you'd like, I'd be glad to help you."

Talfil laughed, "Well spoken," he said. "When can we start?"

The rest of my coming of age celebration was tolerable largely because Ereglin and Talfil worked together to keep me on track. There were many, many who sought a moment of my time and both Ereglin and Talfil became adept at extracting me from social situations. The Laegrem were not bad. They at least were straightforward in their conduct, but the Sindarins had no end of praise and platitudes for me to hear. I was quite fed up with the situation, but Ereglin and Talfil kept me laughing in spite of myself.

At the close of the last day I stayed seated on the dais only long enough to convince the performers that I had enjoyed them, then I made my way directly to my room where I had arranged to meet Ereglin and Talfil. I had had wine and refreshments brought up. Ereglin did a fine job of setting them out. I entered the room and collapsed in one of the great chairs by the fireplace.

"Well, that's done." I said at last. "I have now come of age. It has all been said and done and I will not need to come of age again."

"I know what you mean," said Talfil. "Your party was so much grander than mine and I was exhausted before my parents were done with me. I don't know how you managed a full week."

"I don't know either," I said. Ereglin poured wine for the three of us. "I must admit the singing and dances were wonderful, and I really didn't mind talking to so many of the people, but my face muscles are sore from smiling so much. I think I'll frown for the next seven-day just to even things out!" I lifted the wine glass and swirled the wine in the glass, then took a sip. It was Dorwinian, as I had requested. I savored the flavor on my tongue. Wine was a new privilege that I looked forward to exploring.

"Well, you've made it through your coming of age celebration," said Talfil after taking a long sip of wine. "What will you do now? I'm happy to start your training tomorrow."

"Actually, I've got plans for tomorrow." I set my wine glass on the table and leaned forward a bit. I was so excited that I couldn't help smiling.

"What's tomorrow then, Legolas?" asked Ereglin.

"Tomorrow is a day to myself," I said, "and tomorrow I'm going home."


	34. Chapter 35

_For better or worse I posted over Christmas and New Year's. You might want to check to make sure that you're not skipping chapters. I feel pretty good about this chapter. Still working on those characters. Feedback, nits, crits all are coveted. Thank you for reading!_

The next morning I made a point of seeking out my father in his office. It was a public place, and I knew that as King he would have to respect protocol where as father he might try to sway my opinion. My plan was simple. As a young elf coming of age I was granted _rein idhrin_, a year of exploration to pursue what interests and occupations I desired. At the end of the year I was expected to proclaim my calling and swear fealty to the King. I was cautiously optimistic that my father would grant me leave to visit my village, but I could not be sure.

"Ah, Legolas, come in!" he said as soon as I entered, "Welcome, _nethben_, or should I say Legolas? Those braids suit you well." He stood up and came to greet me, his arms open wide. I submitted to his embrace, but bowed as soon as he released me.

"I come to ask your leave," I said, in a tone that signified I was talking to the King, "Today is the first day of my _rein idhrin _and I'd like to return to my village."

My father took a step backwards and set his hand on my shoulder. "Legolas," he said soberly, looking me in the eye, "I have told you many times why it is not good for the Prince to leave the environs of the keep."

I met his gaze with calmness. His was the opening phrase of a conversation we'd had many, many times."You've told me it isn't safe, but the village has been safe the whole time I've been here. You hold me to stricter boundaries than anyone else, and as a child, that was your right." I paused. It was time for the discussion to change. "I've come of age now, and I plan to go to the village. Today."

My father looked closely at me and removed his hand from my shoulder. "You are not here to ask my leave, then. Why did you come?"

I looked down, and then lifted my chin."I will go, but I'd rather go with your blessing."

"You know, Legolas, that if anything were to happen to me. . ."

"I would need to be prepared to step forward. So you've said many times. But you are safe. I am safe. I'll take Ereglin with me and we will be fine."

My father pursed his lips and looked at me shrewdly. "This isn't entirely unexpected, _nethben_. I know how much you've wanted to go. I don't like it, but I can't keep you as a child forever. Eluvorn and Dolnor brought you here. They will accompany you as you travel to visit your aunt and uncle. They will be fully provisioned, including a tent where you shall sleep. You will travel by horse, that is safer, and I expect you to stay with your escort at all times. You will not wander from the village while you are gone. You may stay for a month. You have my leave, but those are my conditions." He turned and sat down in his chair behind the desk. I stared stupidly at the sudden turn of events. My heart sang at finally being given leave, but I really did not want to be tethered to Eluvorn and Dolnor for the journey.

"Yes, Ada, but-" I began.

My father stopped me with a wave of his hand. "Enough Legolas, the King has spoken."

I could tell that I had been dismissed. I looked warily at the others in the room. No one looked me in the eye. Stiffly I pressed my hand to my heart and bowed. Why did I feel that my father had scored a victory?

Ereglin was waiting for me in the hallway. "How did it go?" he asked, falling into step beside me.

"I don't know why he treats me this way!" I fumed. "This is my_rein idhrin_ year. I should be able to go without restrictions. Instead he's forcing me to take two guards as nursemaids, and I can only stay for a month!"

"That's too bad," sympathised Ereglin. "At least he's going to allow you to go. Actually, it may help that you've got someone to go with you." 

"What do you mean?" I asked. Ereglin escorted me out the door into the yard. "Ereglin?"

Ereglin shut the door and turned to look at me. "It's my naneth, Legolas. She's been having troubling dreams since my father left. She would not refuse me this trip, but I did promise my father that I would look out for her. These spells have come on her before. I worry that with both of us gone she would be very anxious. If it's not too much trouble, do you think perhaps you could wait a week or two?"

I bit my lower lip. I didn't want to be kept under guard, I didn't want to leave in a week or two, I didn't want Aegiriel to be upset and I didn't want to leave Ereglin behind. My vision for going home began to falter. I stood very still and crossed my arms. I took a deep breath. "Ereglin, I've got to leave today. I said that I would. Stay with your mother. I'll figure out a way to put up with those two guards."

Ereglin wasn't fooled. "You don't sound very happy about it, Legolas. Keep in mind that you are going home. What can I do to help get you on your way?"

I looked at Ereglin's smiling face and had to relax. Things were as they were and I'd best simply deal with them. I returned Ereglin's smile. He was right, of course. I needed to pack and get ready. I was going home!

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It had been many years since I had seen my home, and yet not a single bit of it had escaped my memory. The smell of the pines as we descended into the valley was like a tonic awakening my blood to dance through my veins. The leaves on the trees seemed to unfurl in welcome as we passed beneath the boughs of the great maples that lined the banks of the wide brown river. My approach was noted by the silence of the birds as we passed, followed by a swell in their afternoon song. We had almost reached the divide where the small road forked off to head down to the village, when we were noticed by the village sentry.

"Brego!" I cried as he leapt neatly from the branches of an ancient red oak. He startled at the sound of his name, and graced me with a gaze of intense confusion. It took a moment for him to see past my fine clothing, but when he recognized me, a wide grin spread across his features. Quickly I dismounted and embraced him in a bear hug.

"Eh, Legolas! We have missed you! Does your family know that you are coming? I think that your uncle is going to be pleased to see you. And your aunt, well, she was worried that you weren't ever coming back." He finally released me from the hug, then turned and squinted up at my two escorts.

"Who are they, Legolas? They'll receive welcome, I'm sure. But then they will be on their way, yes? And you will be happy to be home." He looked at me expectantly. All of a sudden I felt very uncomfortable in my fine garments. I had so much to say, and I really didn't know where to begin. I smiled sheepishly and looked at Eluvorn and Dolnor for guidance. Then I remembered who I was and stood tall.

"Brego," I began, "This is Eluvorn and this is Dolnor. They are brothers and they've come to see me home. They will stay so long as I'm here, but they brought their own tent so that they can have a place to sleep. And I do want to see Nathel and Nador and . . ." even as I spoke, I could see Brethilas' form approaching from the distance. Thoughts of a formal welcome fled my mind and I ran as fast as I could to meet up with him.

"Brethilas!" I cried as I ran, "Brethilas!" Once again I saw that look of intense caution that was soon replaced with a cry of delight. He started to run towards me as fast as he could. Our bodies met with a satisfying slam and we tumbled to the ground and wrestled with each other. It was good that I did not succumb as quickly to Brethilas' skills as I used to. Finally we came to a stop and I stood and pulled Brethilas to his feet.

"Cousin! You have been missing your turn at chores far too long!" admonished Brethilas. "Come now, Naneth will be happy to see you." He grasped me by the arm and led me down the path to the village. I looked back over my shoulder. My escorts were following with the mounts. They looked rather amused at my antics. Turning my back to them, I allowed Brethilas to lead me to our fire. Nathel and Nador were both there to greet me. I felt such a wave of love and joy from Nathel that my knees almost gave way beneath me. Ai there is nothing like the embrace of family.

Supper that night was a veritable feast. Nathel worked with the other hearth keepers to prepare game hens stuffed with onions and wild garlic as well as carrots cooked in goat's milk seasoned with fresh cress and honey. Brethilas and I did not stop chattering the whole time, so that I almost overlooked the fact that Nador was silent and kept to himself. People stopped by all evening to welcome me home.

I felt rather awkward saying goodnight to my family and retiring to the tent, but I remembered my father's edict. By the end of the evening, my fine clothes wore the marks of travel, wrestling and a supper enjoyed, so I had no trouble shedding them in favor of the simple night shift and breeches that awaited me. It seemed strange to be climbing into a bed in the midst of the village, but I was tired and ready to be complacent. Dolnor served as my valet, making sure that my personal needs were met, and he did a fair job of tucking me in. I sighed as he left the tent and went to join his brother to discuss the night's watch.

I thought I was ready for sleep until the night singing began. The song began one clear voice at a time, and I could name each singer as they added their music to the whole. How many nights I had lain awake in the caves trying to remember the sounds of the voices, and this night they had come to me again. I lay there until the last of the notes had echoed across the valley, hungering for home in a new way. I could not sleep. I waited until the noises of my escorts subsided; evidently they felt secure enough not to set watch. I slid from my bed and tiptoed soundlessly to the back of the tent. I dared not draw breath as I lifted canvass and slid out into the night.

The half moon cast a silver sheen on the grasses that lined the path. My nightshirt looked like the wing of some great nocturnal moth, fluttering as I walked. At first I set my eyes to my feet so that I would better keep to the path, but after a moment I caught sight of the stars and I almost cried aloud with wonder. The glittering path of the Great Road spilled across the sky in jeweled splendor. The names of the constellations came to mind as quickly as I saw them. The depth and the breadth of the night, so foreign to the world of the caves, caught in my heart. I was awed by its vastness. I stood openmouthed for many moments as the stars marked their course overhead.

Eventually I came to myself and hurried on my way. The moon lit the boughs of our maple, making each branch seem like a warm arm of welcome. The fire had been well banked, although I could see the glow of embers from within. Nador and Nathel had long since retired. Their talan was lower than the one Brethilas and I shared. I stood for a moment and breathed deeply of home. Then I crossed the clearing, savoring the sensation of smooth dirt under my bare feet. Soundlessly I climbed to the talan where Brethilas lay. He woke long enough to grin at me with dark shining eyes. I sat beside him and he reached up and grabbed me with his long arm and yanked me down to lie beside him. He graced me with a firm kiss on the forehead, then draped his arm across my chest and pulled me close. I chuckled with relief. It was really true. I was home.

I should have expected the disturbance in the morning. Eluvorn and Dolnor were frantically looking for me, their calling and crying out quite disrupting the tone of the dawn. I should have been more sensitive to their distress, but instead of descending to put their hearts at ease, I found myself eagerly climbing to the very top of the tall maple. There, with the noise from below creating counterpoint for the pageantry of the dawn, I found it difficult to sing without laughing. For too long I had played the obedient prince. I was home again and would sing where I pleased. I lifted my voice to the sky and welcomed the dawn with every merry note of music my soul could muster.

The canopy echoed in silence when I finished. I stood, for a time, soaking in the morning breezes and the sun touched air. I could smell the wood smoke from the morning fires. Finally, I clambered down the tree, taking care to step lightly over Brethilas as I descended.

I had thought for sure that Eluvorn and Dolnor would be waiting for me on the ground, but Nathel was the only one by the fire. She smiled a silent welcome to me and returned to her work. I slipped down the bank to find Nador. He was fishing as usual; two small bass were already caught and cleaned on the bank.

He looked at me for a long moment, then turned and looked away, his shoulders shaking in silent mirth. Chagrined, I looked down only to be reminded that I still wore the silly nightshirt. Quickly I pulled it off. The chill of the morning air drew goosebumps along my arms but I didn't care. Nador looked at me again and began laughing anew. His laugh was infectious and I began to laugh with him. I sat down on the bank and wrapped my arms around my knees. Nador caught two more fish before he was finished for the morning.

I wrapped the offensive clothing around my shoulders for warmth, and we walked back to the fire together, each carrying two fish. I could hear Eluvorn and Dolnor talking to Nathel in low urgent voices, and Nathel answering them demurely. It occurred to me then that my family could have related my presence to the brothers much earlier. They had covered my back to give me some time to greet the dawn.

"_Mae govenan_," I said as I strode into the clearing. Eluvorn and Dolnor turned and bowed at once, an incongruous gesture in the village setting.

"My lord," said Dolnor, blushing at my lack of attire, his eyes scanning me over for signs of misadventure.

I stood quietly, enduring his perusal. When he seemed satisfied, I spoke. "I am fine, Dolnor, as you can see. I told you and Eluvorn yesterday that while we are in the village I am safe, and so it must be. Do not shadow me so closely."

"Could you have at least told us where you were going?" asked Eluvorn. His annoyance was palpable.

"I wasn't going anywhere, Eluvorn. That's the point. I know that you are charged with my safety, but here, you don't answer to my father, you answer to me. Step down your guard a bit. All will be well."

I could tell that the brothers were troubled. The Sindar don't bend easily to changes in protocol, and I knew that they were well out of their element in a Silvan village. I smiled and pulled the nightshirt from my shoulders. "You could make yourselves useful by fetching me a simple tunic and leggings. Then come back here for some breakfast. I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

Eluvorn and Dolnor looked at one another. They were not fully placated, but they had to admit I had come to no harm. They turned and headed back towards the tent.

While we had talked Nathel had begun grilling the fish. I sat on the end of a nearby log and watched her work. She turned over several earthenware tumblers that had been stored rim side down by the fire. One at a time, she scooped them into the boiling pot to fill them with water. Deftly, she twisted a few pinches of herbs into the corner of a cloth and set it to steep in the water of the first cup. She turned the fish, then refilled the cloth with new herbs and set the second mug to steeping. Her movements were sure and unhurried, creating a dance all their own. Finally she sensed my gaze and looked up into my eyes.

"You have grown, Legolas," she said, "You certainly found your voice with those Sindar. How else have you changed?"

"Not much," I protested, "well, perhaps a little."

"Perhaps," she smiled, handing me a cup of hot tea. "What did they do with you, Nethben?" she asked. She chewed her lower lip for a moment. "Eh, it doesn't matter. You are much too old to work with the hearth keepers. Your uncle is going to work with his wood carving today. Perhaps you will help him?" Her eyes met mine and I saw her love mixed with uncertainty. I wanted nothing more than to set down my tea and embrace her, but she filled the space by handing me a trencher with fresh fish on it. I took a swig of tea and then accepted the fish. I was surprised at the tears that pressed behind my eyes. I lowered my gaze and nodded.

"Yes, Nathel," I said, "I would be glad to."

I finally found Nador in the woodworking clearing. I could hear the gentle tapping of hammer and chisel as I approached.

He did not look up as I entered the clearing; he appeared lost in concentration over an ornate wooden structure that would eventually become the runners of a sled. I did not speak, but sat quietly with my back against a tree.

For nearly an hour there was no sound, save for the tapping, the wind in the birches and an occasional sound of a bird or squirrel. I watched Nador as he carved. The wood shavings curled up under the chisel and collected on the ground. The tapping was a soothing rhythm.

"You came home." It was a statement, dangerously flat and devoid of emotion.

"I was too long away."

Nador stopped and looked up at me, "You could not have come sooner?"

I sighed, "My heart is ever here, Nador, but my duties call."

"Your Nathel missed you."

I turned the conversation. "You were quiet during supper."

Nador looked down at the wood again and began carving. "I had no wish to have words with Thranduil's guards. He should have brought you home himself."

I pondered his words for some minutes. "Nador," I finally asked, "Why is there brokenness between you and Thranduil?"

Nador clenched his teeth, but said evenly, "He does not listen."

"Tell me, Nador. I want to understand."

The sound of the chisel resumed for some time. Finally, Nador set the tools aside and looked at me. "I did not always wear my hair long," he said.

I pondered this, then raised my eyebrows, "You were a warrior?"

He smiled at my surprise, "I am a warrior, _nethben_. When Brethilas was born, I was released from my duties so that I could see him through his childhood. Since he has come of age, I will soon return to the field."

"So your differences with my father arise from your time as a warrior?"

Nador sighed, "What do you know of the War of the Last Alliance?"

"I know that many of our people fell. Oropher, Thranduil's father, made an error in judgement, and . . ."

"An error in judgement, is that what they call it?" exclaimed Nador, "We were prepared for battle, Legolas, not for a bloodbath. Oropher's advisors counseled him to delay the attack. He was adamant that his strategy was going to work.

"Many of the Silvan warriors knew that haste would be deadly. We felt it in the air, we felt it in the earth. Marching early would violate the Song. We talked with one another in the ranks. We were trained by the Sindar to stand fast in formation, battle ready. We were sworn to follow Oropher, but we knew in our hearts that we should wait for the right time.

"I learned much later that our hearts spoke truly. Gil-galad was the leader of all the allied forces. He would have had us wait for his command. He had a plan, and he needed everyone to work together. Oropher worked alone. He did not trust Gil-galad and he would not listen.

"When the order to charge came, we moved forward, but with heavy hearts. We fought as Sindar, but we fell quickly to the enemy's onslaught. For every three who took to the field that day, only one returned."

Nador fingered his tools, but did not pick them up again. The silence stretched between us. I scrambled to make sense of his words. Was it that he felt betrayed by Oropher? Was there a lesson in his words? What did the story have to do with Thranduil?

"And Thranduil does not listen?" I ventured.

"Oropher did not listen, and I lost my father and my brother, and a score of my friends. Thranduil does not listen and I lost you." Nador picked up his tools and began hammering with firm swift strokes. A pattern of maple leaves emerged on the wood. I pulled my knees up to my chest and waited. Eventually, Nador paused and wiped the wood with his hand. He looked at me.

"When you came to us, Legolas, Thranduil did not come with you. You came with Galion and several servants. You were wrapped in fine cloth, I remember. Your fea was desperately unhappy and my heart went out to you. Your Nathel held you and you quieted. She nursed you and you slept. I saw that your heart was one with ours, Legolas, and when I talked with Galion I told him that we would receive you with _gwaedh_, an oath of love. You would not be far family to us, but near family. Galion thanked us and left. You and Brethilas grew together, Legolas. You are intertwined. You cannot deny that you are bonded to his heart."

I thought of the unspoken communication that had often happened between Brethilas and me. There was no doubt that we were bonded together, at least as deeply as brothers. "I have been a son to you?" I ventured. I was perplexed. He had never asked me to call him father.

"Not a son, for that would dishonor your mother. But Thranduil gave us your childhood, Legolas. There was a gwaedh, an oath of love. To tribute us with your childhood was a gift beyond measure. We were honored and bore that trust with pride. He gave us your childhood and then took it from us. You were lost, even as my brother and father were lost." Nador shrugged, and wiped a surreptitious tear from the corner of his eye. "He is Sindar. He will never understand. He loves to rule, but he does not listen to his people."

I shook my head and rolled to my feet. "Thranduil had no say in my leaving you, Nador. He was attacked by a spider, and his advisors thought he might not survive. I needed to return. If Thranduil had died, I would have been made king."

"King?" scoffed Nador, "You were an elfling. The Silvans are wiser than the Sindar. We do not choose leaders by bloodline, we choose them based on their willingness and skills. You had neither. You would not have been a good king. Why didn't he return you to your people when his health was restored?"

I sighed, and chewed on my lower lip. How could I explain how much my father had tried to impress me with the need to be a prince? "I have come back Nador, as soon as I was allowed." I tried to choose my next words carefully, "I am your child and I always will be, but I am prince of Mirkwood as well. If I am young and inexperienced, I may not be worthy, but allow me to grow into the calling that is mine. Teach me how to listen."

Nador gazed into my face, his brown eyes intense in their scrutiny. I could only imagine the pain that he and Nathel must have suffered to lose the final years of my childhood; I could only begin to fathom the love he held for me now. Slowly, the corners of his eyes began to crinkle, and he smiled and chuckled, a deep sharp laugh.

"Eh, Legolas, you know how to listen. You have since you were little. I will not have you as a prince just yet, but you are mine, nonetheless." He leaned towards me, "Did you ever consider why we let those foolish Sindar come to rule over us?" I shook my head. "It is a thankless job, and only a Sinda would want it!"

Hesitantly, I returned his smile. Somehow Nador knew that his concerns had been heard. He picked up the hammer and chisel again and began carving. His motions were much more relaxed and the tap of the chisel sounded like music. I was home. 


	35. Chapter 36

_Legolas has earned his time in the village. I continue to try to bring the characters to life. Any nits, crits or comments are most welcome._

It was a relief and a delight to be at home. Every day I awoke with joy and sweet anticipation of the hours to come. Nights were often spent singing under the stars. Eluvorn and Dolnor spent the first few days hovering about me like gnats. Eventually Nador had a few words with them and after that they seemed to relax, even so far as to share in the work of the village.

My own work was pleasing enough. For the most part I shadowed Brethilas and helped him with his chores. It was a joy to rediscover the rhythms of my people. Every task was willingly undertaken and often accompanied by conversation and song. It was in the morning, about a fortnight after my arrival, that Nathel set us to picking raspberries.

The day held within it the promise of being both long and hot, with a stifling humidity that lay like a heavy blanket over the village. It was late morning when we started our harvest, a task that was delightful except for the persistence of biting insects and the tendency of drops of sweat to roll down into my eyes whenever I bent over to find more of the berries. By noon my back was a mass of insect bites and my fingers were bloody from battling thorns.

It was small consolation that the insects seemed to love Brethilas even more than they loved me. Finally the two buckets were full, or at least full enough for Nathel's approval. Quickly we hauled our load back to the fire, allowing ourselves to indulge in a few of the succulent morsels along the way.

When we arrived at the fire, all was in order, but Nathel was nowhere in sight. We set the berries down amidst the dense branches of a white pine to keep the jays away. Then we raced down to the river to see if Nathel was fetching water.

"Nathel!" I called, looking up and down the banks.

"Naneth!" cried Brethilas, echoing my call, but the river banks were empty, save for a row of turtles that had climbed up on a thick branch to warm themselves in the sun. The water of the river swirled by like a lazy brown ribbon, furrowed with sparkling bits where the sun glistened across its surface. Brethilas and I gazed at each other for a moment without speaking. Then, knowing that we shared the same thought, we yelled gleefully and ran headlong into the river.

The water near the banks was shallow, but as soon as we could, we set course for the further bank. I took a great deep breath of air and swam as deep and as far as I could. It felt so good to feel the icy cold against the insect bites. I extended my arms and pulled hard, enjoying the power of propelling myself beneath the surface.

When I came up for air I was behind Brethilas, so I submerged myself again and strained to catch up with him. I opened my eyes under water and soon caught sight of my goal. With one final burst of speed I grabbed Brethilas' foot and pulled him down as hard as I could. Brethilas turned and grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down with him. The next few minutes were a combination of flailing limbs and twisted torsos as we both tried to scramble for air while keeping the other under. Eventually we both made our way to the surface, breathing hard and laughing. The heat and discomfort of the morning's work was gone. We were ready for something new.

"Should we go back?" asked Brethilas. I paused and contemplated his question.

"Well," I said, trying to weigh things objectively. "We did pick raspberries very quickly today."

"And we did return promptly to the fire," offered Brethilas, "Don't you think Nathel would have let us off?"

"She might have," I answered slowly.

"Let's just go for a little while," pleaded Brethilas.

"Well, for a few minutes," I conceded reluctantly. Brethilas did not wait, but turned quickly and started swimming towards the far bank. I scrambled after him, determined to get there first.

We soon stood dripping on the rocky banks of the river. Pines dominated the area, although there were a few laurel and birch near the water. We climbed to where a large flat rock rested in the sun and stretched out like two lizards to dry. For a long time, neither of us spoke.

"I waited a long time to be here," I said at last. I rolled over onto my back and put my arm behind my head. "There were some days I thought I'd never get back home."

"We missed you here, too," said Brethilas, "Naneth wanted to go and visit you, but Ada said that Thranduil had made his choice and that we were not to interfere."

"I wish you had come," I said, "but at least I had Istuilalf."

"Istuilalf was with you?" asked Brethilas. "I wondered where he had gone."

I sat up. "He and I spent a lot of time together. He taught me many skills. Not any more Deep Songs like the one he taught us, but a great deal of wood craft."

"Are you still planning to be a _tauron_?"

I nodded, "What about you?"

"Ada wants me to follow him in woodworking. I think I should follow him as a warrior as well."

"You would do that for the Woods?"

"For the Woods and her people," said Brethilas, "Ada says that there is a price to pay for our life in the village, and I want to do my part."

I thought about that for a moment. His words reminded me of Luinthol, the warrior I had healed. Sometimes I wondered if being a _tauron_ was enough. It didn't seem right to stay safely tending the woods when those I loved were taking risks.

"My father's a warrior," I said at last, "but he's never encouraged me to follow his path."

"You'll be a great _tauron_," said Brethilas kindly, "besides, your father probably wants to keep you safe."

"Why does it always come back to that?" I demanded angrily. "You know I never wanted to be Prince, I never asked to be Prince. I am Laegren. I belong in the village." I turned my head and gazed over the water.

"Is it bad?" asked Brethilas.

"It's bad enough. Because I'm the Prince, I've been tied to the keep with an invisible rope since my first winter there. My father has leave to go and fight, the people have leave to wander as they will, but I must stay and hide from danger, lest it overwhelm me. Brethilas, do I look like a weakling to you?"

"No, Legolas, but-"

"And if I'm not a weakling, then why am I treated as one? Our fathers can fight, you can fight, Boronel can fight, but I am Prince, so I can't even be trusted to travel to my village without two armed guards to protect me. It's all because I'm a prince, or so I've been told. Well if such is the way of princes, then I'd rather not be one!"

Brethilas watched me for a moment and then said, "Legolas, what is your calling?"

"I'm to be a _tauron_. I've wanted that forever. You know that."

He shrugged, "Be true to that, then. That's what Ada would say. Being a prince is not the issue. Fighting is not the issue. Nobody wants to be a warrior, well, maybe some of the Sindarin do, I don't know. But the point is that prince or no, warrior or no, you've been called to be a tauron. Everybody in the village knows that. That's what's important. I would not fight if there were another way left open for me. You happen to have another path to follow. Just be a _tauron_, Legolas. Give it your best."

I stopped pacing. "I still don't like being coddled."

"But you shouldn't be a warrior. Fighting makes it hard to listen to the woods."

I sighed and then smiled, "You know you sound like Istuilalf when you talk like that?"

"Be careful, elfling," he said, "or I will sing a Deep Song that will make you cry!" In one smooth motion Brethilas was on his feet running into the water. I was close on his heels.

By the third week, Eluvorn and Dolnor were relaxed enough to allow me to go hunting. We decided that my father's edict to stay in the village must have included its environs, and that was good enough for me.

I went with Nador and Brethilas. Nador was hoping to bring some venison home, so we set out well before dawn. I don't know if it was my training in listening, or the fact that we were walking on paths I had not seen for many years, but the woods had a special song for me in that morning in the interlude just before dawn. The moon had set, so we made our way by starlight. The woods were etched in shades of gray in the silver light, marked by the trees that stood black and strong. The air itself was warm and comforting. Of the night animals, the owl, raccoon and weasel, I saw no sign, but we were walking quickly, so I didn't have much time to seek them out. The river slid along in inky darkness. It had its own quiet melody, low and strong. Every step I took restored me to wholeness and balance.

There was an oak at the edge of the river. A red oak, with thick branches spread wide. We made our way to this tree. Brethilas held the bows while Nador and I climbed up. He handed up the bows and then made his way to one of the lower branches. We sat for a time each to our own branch, with our backs against the trunk, speaking softly to one another of unimportant things. As dawn drew nearer, our chatter stopped and we set ourselves forward a bit. It had been decided earlier that, as I had the most training in listening, I would take the shot. I did not wait for the deer to appear, but pulled an arrow from its place and set it upon the string in ready.

The first animal to come and drink was not a deer, but a skunk. Oblivious to the fact that it was being watched, the skunk lapped daintily from the river. It had no cause to hurry, but eventually wandered away. For some reason, Brethilas thought the whole thing was very funny. I worried that we might miss our shot if he didn't stop laughing. In time he quieted and soon we saw the first of the deer wander beneath our perch.

She was a young deer, only two or three seasons old. I listened and felt her heart beating softly in her breast. She was not shy, but walked with careful steps to the edge of the water and bent her head to drink. I had to admit that Nador had chosen the tree wisely. We were far enough up to be out of sight, but close enough for a good shot. I knew that we didn't have much longer to wait. The buck was sure to follow after his lady.

Some time passed before the buck came into view. The trees had begun to rustle and the birds had begun stirring for their morning song. At last I saw him. He was a beautiful creature. He held his head high, his black eyes shining in the starlight. I closed my eyes for a moment so that I could listen. He was young, and strong. Breath sang through his lungs, counterpointed by the beat of his heart. He walked in cadence with the forest. In my mind, I walked with him, feeling his spirit, knowing the body that housed it. Silently, I asked for his guidance.

The buck took several steps forward, until his left flank was fully in my view. Smoothly, so as not to disrupt the harmony of the moment, I pulled the bow as I aimed. When I was sure that I was in synchrony with the buck, I closed my eyes and envisioned the arrow slicing straight through his heart. I opened my eyes and released the arrow.

It was a clean shot. The deer took two steps forward, then silently crumpled onto the bank of the river. I heard Brethilas' sigh as it fell. I felt the shimmer of release as the animal's life force left its body.

"Be one with the spirit of the forest," I whispered.

We gutted the deer where it fell. It was small enough that Nador could carry the carcass across his shoulders. I held his bow on the way back. We sang songs for the spirit of the deer most of the way home. I had provided for the village and I was proud and satisfied with my work.

My final week at home went all too quickly. I found myself wanting to capture moments and hold fast to them, but the days moved inexorably onward. I could not hold Nathel's laughter as she served the meal. I could not hold the moments of helping Nador catch his morning fish. I could not hold the warm sun and the feeling of pushing myself to help with the chores of the village. I could not hold the sound of Brethilas, breathing noisily in his sleep. So many moments I wanted to hold, and yet, eventually the day of my departure arrived. I set aside the clothes of the village that Brethilas had loaned me and took up again the embroidered tunic and leggings of the Prince. For a month I had been allowed to be myself. Now I felt as though I were returning to a world of rules and boundaries.

Finally, I hugged Nador and Nathel goodbye and wrestled one last time with Brethilas, then mounted the little chestnut mare who had brought me home. It was time to return to the Caverns. 


	36. Chapter 37

_Thanks to ebbingnight for helping me with Thranduil's POV._

Talfil and Ereglin greeted me at the bridge as I returned. Talfil was relaxed and laughing at something Ereglin said as I approached. They sobered and bowed as I dismounted.

My father emerged from the caverns. "Welcome home, Legolas," he said as he scooped me into a warm embrace. "I've missed you. Settle yourself from your journey and then meet me for supper. It's been a long time since I've heard word from your village."

I felt captured by my father's embrace, but I returned the gesture. "I'm fine," I said, "and I'll tell you all you want to know at supper. Eluvorn, will you see to my horse?" With a nod I excused myself. Ereglin took my pack. He and Talfil bowed to my father then followed me into the cave.

Ereglin matched my stride, then said, "Legolas, you'll have no time today, but maybe tomorrow Talfil can show you how he does archery. He's got some great ideas that really seem to work for him. You're going to love trying them out. I've ordered refreshments to be brought to your room. Would you like me to draw a bath?"

"Honestly? I'd rather go swimming."

I actually did take a bath, because protocol demanded that I report to my father before doing anything else. This restriction was softened a little because I insisted that Talfil stay with me as I bathed and dressed.

"Tell me about this method of yours," I said as I scrubbed the travel dirt from my arms.

Talfil perched on the corner of my bed, "Well, it starts with understanding that an arrow shot is really falling. There is a certain amount of forward motion, but in the end it falls to the ground."

"That's easy to see," I said. "That's why you always aim above the target."

"Yes, but how do you know how high to aim?" An intense look was on his face. He was enjoying himself.

"Well, I don't know." I shrugged. "For targets, I practice a lot. For hunting I just listen."

"Do you ever get a feel for how to aim, or do you have to think about it?"

"I do think about it. At least a little bit. No, well, sometimes my best shots are those that just feel right. But I never know until after I shoot whether it's something I think about or something that I just feel."

Talfil was grinning, "Well, that's it. You just get to know the feel of the shot, you envision it and you hit it dead on every time."

I looked at Ereglin, "Does he make any sense to you? It can't be that simple. If I could just envision the rightness of a shot I would be listening, and you can't listen to a target. Targets aren't alive."

"You've been hunting, my lord." Talfil stood and held an imaginary bow. "You've listened to the animal. You've nocked the arrow and drawn the bow. You aim. What's the next step?"

I thought back to the deer I had shot in the village. "I shoot," I said. "No, wait I envision the arrow taking a swift path to the animal's heart."

"Precisely!" said Talfil.

"Hand me a towel," I said to Ereglin. I thought about what Talfil was saying as I dried off. Could Talfil be on to something? Was there a way to bring listening to archery? "How did you figure this out?" I asked.

"My mother wanted me to be a_ tauron_," said Talfil casually. "I had ten years of training before it became clear that I was better off as a dancer. I couldn't see dancing as a good way to help protect the woods, so I decided to become a warrior. But don't you see, my lord, it's all a matter of listening?"

"So that's all you did to hit those apples? You envisioned the arrow on its path?"

"I joined with the arrow as it flew and as it fell. I envisioned it hitting the apples as they fell. Falling is part of the dance. The whole action of archery is really a dance. I practice, to be sure. Practice is important in all parts of life, but in the end it's about listening and joining in the dance."

Ereglin handed me a tunic of light brown with stylized birds embroidered on the sleeves. I dressed distractedly. During the coming of age contest, my mind had been on other things and I had done poorly. Listening requires a lot of concentration. Perhaps the two were tied together?

"Have you had a chance to try Talfil's idea?" I asked Ereglin.

"It has helped me a little bit, I think," said Ereglin, "but I'm no _tauron_. Istuilalf has always said you are gifted in listening Legolas. I couldn't wait for you to get back to see if this idea would work well for you."

I smiled at Talfil, "Well, we have something to look forward to tomorrow!"

I would have liked to have supper with Ereglin and Talfil in the kitchen, but the meal with my father was obligatory. We ate in my father's private dining room, which was seldom employed, since my father preferred to eat in the company of his people. When I entered, the table was set for two, with plates of glass rather than the usual wooden trenchers. I was surprised. It was a rare thing to have my father all to myself. There were no servants about, save for Galion who stood in attendance. My father was already seated at the head of the table.

"Come in, Legolas," He said, setting his wine glass down and beckoning me. "I've missed you, _nethben_."

I bowed formally, as the occasion required, and took a seat at my father's right. The attention was making me uncomfortable. Either he was truly welcoming me, or there was some news afoot that he wanted to tell me. Galion poured wine in my goblet and served the first course, watercress seasoned with garlic and onion. I looked at my father, waiting for him to begin eating, but he was in no hurry. Nervously, I took a sip of my wine. It was heavy and sweet, much to my liking.

"Tell me, the news from the village. Is Brego still on watch?"

I nodded, "He was the first to greet me when I got to the village."

"Did he welcome you with open arms?"

I shook my head. "He challenged me, but then he didn't recognize me at first. He was not too happy that I brought two Sinda with me."

"That is Brego for you. Did I ever tell you about the first time that I met him?" My father took a sip of wine and leaned towards me. "I came upon the village unexpectedly. It was just Galion and I. We were headed to Menegam's village to check on some new recruits and we took a wrong turn at a fork in the road. Well, Brego was on us almost at once.

""Your not allowed here," he said. "We don't need any of your kind visiting the village." Well, Galion spoke up and tried to convince him that I was the king, but he would have none of that. Galion was fine, but I was a Sinda, and he refused to let me pass." He paused and took a bit of watercress.

"Didn't he know you because of my mother?"

"Ah, that's when I met her. She and Istuilalf overheard our conversation and came to see what the matter was. Of course Istuilalf vouched for me at once and that's when Lethriliel invited me to her mother's fire. Considering the circumstances, I knew that I could not refuse."

"What was she like?" My father was usually reluctant to talk about my mother, but there was something different about him this evening.

"Your mother? She was as beautiful as the stars, intelligent, bold and a terrible tease. She had a way of catching her tongue between her teeth and looking up at me through lowered lashes that she did when she was up to mischief. My burden as King has been very heavy at times, but with a word or a look, Lethriliel could make me laugh." He gazed into his wine goblet, then took a sip and sighed, "Eh, Legolas, I wish you could have known her."

We ate in silence for a time. The main course was fresh fish with seasoned butter and a bit of parsley. There was wild rice pilaf on the side. I was on to my second glass of wine when my father spoke again. He asked after several of the people of the village, and had a story to tell me about each one. As he related the tales, I relaxed a little bit, and began to share with him tales of a more current nature. I didn't know if it was the wine or simply a shift in my father's disposition, but I found that I enjoyed talking to him about the village.

We talked long after the dishes were cleared. When I finally took my leave, I was a little unsteady on my feet, but I remember thinking begrudgingly that it was too bad he had to be King and I had to be Prince. Perhaps without my confinement coming between us we might have been friends.

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As a soldier in training, Talfil had access to the practice range at the keep, but I wanted more privacy to try out his idea. The three of us stopped by the kitchen for some lunch provisions, then set out for the range by the lake. As usual, I led the way, running as much as possible. Talfil and Ereglin gamely followed. The light of late summer was on the woods; the trees were dressed in the dark green of the season. As we ran I could hear the song of a dozen kinds of birds in the trees. There was a tone in the air that spoke of rain to come, but I guessed that it would hold off until late afternoon or better. We set up the target some fifty paces away. It was a distance that I had no trouble shooting, although my arrows were sometimes not on the mark. Ereglin's arrows did not fare so well, but Talfil's arrows hit dead center every time.

"I'm ready to try your idea," I said to Talfil at length. "What do I do first?"

Talfil flashed me a grin that made his eyes sparkle. He spoke earnestly."Think of shooting as a dance. Not the dances of the Sindar, but the dance of the Laegrim. And listen as you dance. Listen to your bow. Listen to your arrow. Listen to the target. Envision the arrow meeting the target."

"I feel silly listening to something that isn't alive," I said, "but I'll try it." I closed my eyes and breathed out. Then I breathed in again and tried to listen as Talfil had directed. It seemed odd and awkward somehow, but I stayed with it. I breathed out the distractions, then breathed in again as I opened my eyes and pulled the bow. I sighted the target and envisioned the arrow piercing the center of the target. I breathed out and released the string. I stayed focused on the arrow as it sped from the bow, tracing an arc in the air as it flew. I could almost feel it impacting the target.

"You did it!" cried Ereglin. He grabbed my arm. "Look, Legolas, you've done it!"

"I see, Ereglin. Calm down. That may have been skill, not listening." I surpressed a laugh. I was rather proud of the shot.

"That was good," said Talfil. "Try it again."

I did try again. We worked for about two hours that morning. While I came nowhere near Taligil's proficiency, there was a definite improvement in my aim. By lunchtime my arms were getting tired.

When we were done, we sat on the edge of the bluff overlooking a little beach. In the distance were the orchards and fields that surrounded the lake. I could see the fishing boats tied up for the day at the wooden docks. The sky was beginning to haze a bit. The thunderstorm would be a fine one.

Ereglin opened the pack and pulled out a hearty lunch of fresh bread, cheese, berries and nuts. He also had a flask of grape juice that he had kept chilled in the lake. He'd forgotten the cups, so we took turns drinking from the flask.

"That was great!" I said to Talfil after eating and drinking for a time. "What village are you from?"

Talfil looked at me keenly. "I was born in Hirthor's village, though my father's a Sinda so I could have been born here at the keep. My father is rather a sop for Laegren ways, so I was raised and kept there."

"He wouldn't let you travel?" I asked.

Talfil took a sip from the flask and shook his head. "He wanted me to be pure Silvan, not bent to Sindar ways. At least when I cut my hair he let me come to the keep, but my sister? She'll stay in the village even after she comes of age."

"Your sister is younger than you are?"

"By some ten years, my lord. She's small and sweet, but take care with her. She has a temper worse than a summer storm! You might like her. You should come to my village and meet the people. They've never been visited by their prince you know."  
I deferred Talfil's request politely, but inside I was troubled. I knew how little chance I had of ever setting foot again outside the keep. My father had allowed me leave to visit my village, but I did not delude myself to pretend it would happen again.

"Well," said Eriglin brightly, "will you be working more on your bow after lunch, or do we have time for a swim?"

"Neither," I said, looking at the sky. "The clouds are starting to build. We're going to have rain today." I finished off the grape juice and handed the empty flask to Ereglin. He packed it with the leftover food in the bag and slung it onto his shoulder.

"Then let's be off before it hits, eh, Legolas?"

We scrambled to our feet and made our way to the path back home. I could feel the storm building. The air had a hot and empty feel to it. The birds were still. The sky continued to darken as we walked. Soon fat drops began to fall. All too quickly it was raining in earnest. Usually I enjoyed a summer rain, but in this case the darkness in the sky mirrored the shadow that still hung in my heart. Much as I disliked being Prince, I did love my people, and I would have loved to visit Talfil's home. My father had his own ideas however, and I doubted that coming of age would change his mind on such matters.

The rain came down harder, coming in sheets.

"Legolas!" said Ereglin, "What say we visit my mother and see if she's got the _tobo_ pulled over the talan? We can sit this one out." Ereglin's hair was plastered to his face. He sounded so earnest that I had to laugh. A rainstorm in the village was a chance to play. Not so here near the keep. Still, I would come to no harm making Ereglin happy. Besides, I hadn't seen Aegliriel since my return.

"Lead on Ereglin. How is your mother doing? It will be good to see her again." Ereglin looked so grim at my comment that at first I thought he had misunderstood me.

"Not so well," said Ereglin at last. "She has been anxious and troubled since before you left for the village. It was a good thing that I stayed to be with her, though there was not much I could do."

"Have you gotten word from your father?" I asked.

"Only once. A messenger came from the South with many messages. The company was preparing for an attack, and many sent words to their loved ones."

"Not good news, but not bad news either." I said. "Perhaps we can brighten her day."

We walked on in silence. The rain settled in to a steady downpour. I could hear rumbling from the west. The storm was not done with us yet.

Great puddles covered the ground of Aegliriel's fire when we arrived. The log where Boronel usually sat was black and shiny with the rain. I peered through the downpour, looking for Aegliriel. At first I couldn't make sense of what I saw. The fire was out, of course, still smoking as the rain came down. Through the haze of the rain I could discern a bundle of dark clothing. As I watched, the bundle of dark clothing moved. The bundle was Aegliriel weeping and broken with grief. On the ground beside her were two empty soldier boots with a sword set carefully beside them.

Ereglin ran into me. As I turned to let him into the clearing I saw his face. A look of shock and horror flew across his features. For a moment there was no marking of time, then Ereglin ran to his mother. "Naneth, NO!" he proclaimed. "It can't be true! Tell me it isn't so!" But Aegliriel just grabbed Ereglin and wept.

Talfil saw the scene, and then looked at me with sorrow. He put a hand on my shoulder. "I should not be here," he said. He vanished into the woods.

I looked at Aegliriel and Ereglin and took a deep breath. I felt that I should not be here either. The whole thing seemed so unreal. But I would not let my meldir face this alone. I set down my bow and crossed the clearing. I embraced Ereglin and his mother and as the rain came down, I wept with them. "Easy," I said to them at last, "I am here with you. We'll find out what happened."

"They told me what happened," said Aegliriel between sobs. "They attacked the orc encampment but it was a trap. Boronel was ambushed from behind. He never knew what hit him." She wiped her eyes with her hand, "He never knew. The orcs killed him. Our troops were overtaken and many died. So many. The rest of the company will come home. But not Boronel."  
Eregin disengaged himself from his mother. "No, Naneth." His voice was low and trembled with grief. "No. They will answer for this. I swear to it. The _yrch_ live yet. I won't let them win!" In one swift movement he grasped Boronel's sword and seized his hair.

"Ereglin no! Wait!" I cried, "Think of what you are doing!"

"I know what I am doing," said Ereglin, cutting through his hair. "If I had been a proper son I would have not been cowering back at the keep, I would have been fighting at his side. If I had been a proper son, I would have been there watching his back. He would not have died, Legolas. He would not have died!"

Ereglin's long hair lay limply in his hand. He stared at it as though he had never seen it before. Slowly he opened his hand and the hair spilled to the ground. He clutched the sword tightly. When he spoke again, his voice was shaking, but filled with determination. "I swear, Legolas, I will avenge my father."

I shook my head, "Oh, Ereglin. You don't know what you have done. When my father hears of this …"

"When your father hears of this he will be proud," said Ereglin defiantly, "Who knows? Perhaps he will take me with him this time."

"This time? Ereglin, what are you saying?" I grasped Ereglin by the shoulders, and shouted over the rain.

Ereglin's face paled and his eyes grew wide. Water dripped from his chin. "Sweet Eru, didn't he tell you Legolas? You had dinner together last night. Surely you know."

"Know what, Ereglin? Tell me!"

Ereglin's voice came to me through the rain. "Your father is headed South, Legolas. He leaves tomorrow."

Betrayed. The anguish that poured through my heart made it hard for me to breathe. My father. Leaving. He might not return. He didn't even tell me. And here I was, confined to the keep. My father the warrior, Nador the warrior, Boronel the warrior. But Boronel was no more. When would it be my father's turn? And here I was, being safe as a _tauron_. Hiding from the Enemy. Hiding, not fighting. It was all so wrong. And my father betrayed me. He left me home hiding while he went to fight the Enemy and didn't even tell me!

Anger at my father surged. "Enough!" I yelled. There was only one thing that I could think of to do. I grabbed my _tauron_ blade from its sheath and began hacking off my hair. I would join Ereglin as a warrior.

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_As always, your feedback is sincerely solicited and always appreciated._


	37. Chapter 38

_Thanks to ebbingnight for helping with Thranduil's POV._

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My father had no words for me when he saw what I had done. I had left Ereglin with his mother and made my way to the keep. The sentries were the first to notice, and I knew then that my decision would be all over the caverns within hours. I didn't try to hide in my room, although I was sorely tempted, but went instead directly to my father's office. I entered unannounced, still dripping from the rain.

My father was seated behind his desk, conferring with his advisors. He welcomed me with warm words, but he soon saw that I was distressed. I met his eyes with all the courage I could muster, then I slowly turned so he could see what I had done. The room went silent. I heard my father stand and, before I could turn again, he walked past me and strode from the room.

The room was quiet for an interminable time.

"Eh, what's this?" asked Galion at last.

"I've decided to become a soldier." My voice sounded weak and small.

"So it would seem," said Galion dryly. "You've been considering this for awhile?"

"No," I admitted.

Galion's eyebrows went up. "An impulsive gesture? But one with serious ramifications, young Thranduilion. You have slighted your father for years, but I never thought of you as cruel. This will wound his very soul, and to what end? He has lost much, will he lose you as well?"

"It will not grieve him if he does," I growled, "I am nothing to him, but a prince, a replacement for him should he fall. He leaves for battle tomorrow and doesn't even care for me enough to tell me of his plans!"

Galion shook his head. "For one who has come of age, you are still very young. People say that you are an exceptional listener, but I see no evidence of that here. When was the last time that you really listened to your father?"

"So that he could tell me once again to stay near the keep? I hear him all the time!"

Galion did not answer me, but gazed at me sadly. I looked around the room at the other advisors. No one said a word. I looked down. A puddle of water was forming around my feet. Suddenly, I felt very foolish. I nodded towards Galion, then headed out the door.

I do not like to admit that I hid in my room that afternoon, but that is exactly what I did. When I got there I changed into dry clothes and brushed out my hair. It felt odd having it short, like a piece of myself was missing. The ends were jagged where the sword had cut it roughly. When I was done I went to the window and looked out. The rain had abated, but the gray clouds still covered the sky. The little lake was dark, as though echoing the tidings of the day. I climbed up on my bed and wrapped my arms around my legs.

The day's light had faded, when there was a knocking at my door. "Come in, Ereglin!" I called, thinking that it was he. But it was my father who walked in the room.

"Legolas, _nethben_ …"

This was a far cry from the angry king that I expected. I slid off the bed and stood before him. He simply looked at me. I could not read his face.

"Boronel's dead." I said at last.

"I know, Legolas. He died bravely."

"Ada, I –"

But my father put his hand up, "enough, Legolas." He looked into my eyes. "Do you remember when you first arrived here?"

I nodded.

"I found you in the storage room. You had every right to be frightened of me. I'd threatened you with a knife, hunted you down. I was quite a bit taller than you then. But you took me on. You stood there with your arms crossed and a determined look on your face and you put me in my place. You told me that I was bad, do you remember this? I was surprised and pleased at the courage you showed. You helped me to realize that it would be both an honor and an undertaking to earn your love. For a time, things went well. But now, Legolas, what is it that is driving you from me?"

I stared at him openmouthed. "Don't you see how I hate being confined to the keep?" I said finally, outraged at his ignorance. "You let me wander only far enough to know there is more out there waiting to be discovered. But evidently keeping the Prince safe is more important than my welfare! I've tried to please you, but nothing I say or do will release me from the boundaries you've set for me." I looked long at him and set my shoulders back. "I've taken the only course I can to set my own fate. If being a prince means hiding in these caves you call home, then I want no part of it! I renounce my call to be Prince and I renounce you!" I turned to walk away from the King, but he put a hand on my shoulder and held me.

"We are a people at war, Legolas. Everyone is expected to make sacrifices, especially the royal family. Boundaries for a child should not cause this kind of anguish. Look in your heart now, and tell me what is wrong."

I paused, and looked down. I was breathing hard. My hands had begun to shake. I breathed in and out slowly, but the tempest in my heart did not abate. If anything it grew stronger. What was he aiming for? Did he want me to excuse his behavior? I clenched my fists, ready to shout my rage. Then suddenly, it came to me and I found I could only whisper. "You stole my family from me." I hissed at last. Tears came unbidden. "My childhood was promised to them. I belonged there. It's gone now, forever." I covered my face with my hand and wept.

My father's hand dropped to his side, "Sweet Eru, Legolas. Is that it? When will you realize that I am family too? You were never meant to be raised so far from me."

I dried my eyes and stared at him. "Why am I even here? You care for the Prince more than you care for me! I needed my family," I begged, "and they needed me. You don't even care for me enough to tell me that you are going South!"

"Legolas, I care for you more than you will ever know. I didn't tell you at supper last night because I didn't want to spoil things. I would not have left without saying goodbye. I have spent years trying to convince you that I love you. Why won't you accept that love?"

"Maybe it's because you shackle me like a prisoner to your doorstep. You say you want time with me, and then you go South. You say you want me to be a_ tauron_, and yet you won't let me explore the woods. You say that you care, but you keep me from those who really love me. Your actions betray you. You may care for the Prince, but you do not love me at all."

The King's eyes grew wide, and I knew that my words had hit their mark. He shook his head sadly. "I think that it's much easier for me to say that the Prince must not travel than to admit how much I've needed you, Legolas. Perhaps I haven't shown you enough of my heart," he continued, "but so many of my loved ones have died. So many, many good friends. My mother and father are gone. Even Lethriliel," his voice grew rough, "Even Lethriliel has passed away. You are all I have left. Don't you understand? I love you, Legolas. I needed for you to be safe."

"_You_ needed me to be safe?" I said accusingly. "Nador and Nathel and Brethilas needed me! You took me from my family and you never let me return! You have no right to be selfish, even if you are King!" I crossed my arms and stared angrily at his face.

My father glared at me and for a moment I thought he was going to rebuke me. Then his features softened and he shook his head. He met my eyes. "I can see that I have not earned your love, even after all this time. You were wounded, Legolas, when your mother left you. You were wounded again when you were taken away from the village. Each time I leave you to go South you are wounded again. I can't change what has happened, but someday I hope you will realize the healing that can happen when you offer forgiveness."

I narrowed my eyes. My father had no idea of how tangible and deep my anger was. The thought of forgiveness had never crossed my mind. I wanted to strike out and have him share the pain that I had felt, but my anger was too great for words. Silence hung dark and ominous between us.

"I admit that I was wrong, Legolas. I had no idea that you were in such pain. You have hidden your heart well from me, and I've been far too distracted to listen to what has troubled you. I was wrong." he said. He moved to put a hand on my arm, but I backed away. "I know it won't be easy, but will you forgive me?" When I didn't answer, he shook his head and implored, "Renounce being prince, renounce the king, but don't renounce me! I beg of you. I love you, Legolas, flawed as that love may be."

It was as though my father's _fea_ lay open before me. I knew that he was speaking the truth. I considered for a moment turning my back on him, but then I realized that much as I hated him for what he had done to me, his love was something I wanted. Something I had wanted all along. Perhaps I was being foolish, but I turned towards him.

"Ada," I said at last, "I cut my hair."

"I know, Legolas," and he stepped forward and embraced me. "I will help you through this, if you will have me."

I leaned into his embrace and sighed.

As it turned out, it was well that I had my father's help. That night, with Galion's assistance, we trimmed my hair, and my father counseled me in what to expect over the next few days.

"Malenech expects all new recruits to find him within a week of making their decision," he told me. "Fortunately for you and Ereglin, you don't have far to travel. I'll take you to him in the morning to formally present you. There is no use putting off what can't be helped."

"But what of my training as a _tauron_? I asked. What of my music lessons? What of Istuilalf?"

"You'll have to put that aside, I'm afraid. Training for war is a full time vocation. I'd give you a home assignment if I could, Legolas, that would protect you from danger, but you will be under Malenech's provision from now on. He isn't likely to play favorites. Your skills as a listener will need to be forsaken as well. If you listen near the enemy, you risk your very soul."

Tears sprang to my eyes. "But it was a mistake, Ada! Oh why did I cut my hair? I need to be a _tauron_!"

"And perhaps you will be someday, if this war ever ends. But you are an adult now, Legolas, and you are accountable for your actions. There are many people who will be disappointed that you are not a _tauron_, it is true, but it is honorable to make the sacrifice of service. It isn't how either you or I would have it, but you can serve proudly, and give it your best."

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Ereglin came the next morning. He was somber and distant through breakfast. After the meal he helped me to dress in a plain tunic of dark blue with black leggings to match. He was silent as he did my braids. I wanted to offer him reassurance, but I found that I had nothing to say.

My father met us to take us to Malenech. He spoke kindly to Ereglin then turned to me. "I'll say my farewells to you now, Legolas," he said, embracing me. "Malenech has no patience for lengthy goodbyes."

The tunnels of the caverns were busy with the goings on of the day. People murmured as we passed by, but no one stopped to talk with us. We cut across the yard and headed up the stairs to the training field. I could hear the shouts of the soldiers and the clang of metal on metal as they practiced. As we reached the top of the stairs, I spotted Malenech coming towards us.

My father is not small, but he seemed so next to Malenech. Malenech was tall, broad shouldered and solidly built. Years of training and teaching had resulted in a strong body, built for fighting. Malenech moved smoothly. Each action was planned. There was no wasted movement. He reminded me of a lynx getting ready to strike. He bowed graciously as my father approached, then looked at me with keen gray eyes that missed nothing.

"Malenech, I have two new recruits for you," said my father.

Malenech nodded, "I had heard as much. I'm surprised to see them so soon."

"I leave today," said my father, "I thought it best to get them under your tutelage before I departed."

"And I for one, would prefer that they not come at all. Excuse my boldness, your highness, but neither one of these youngsters is likely to prove their mettle as soldiers. They are two impulsive boys who demonstrated an alarming lack of discretion and self control. I will take them if you insist, but understand I will cut them no quarter in their training. There is no room for foolishness in your army."

I expected my father to stand up for me, but instead he tilted his head and looked at Malenech for a long moment. "Understood," he said at last, nodding. "That's as it should be." He turned to us, "Legolas and Ereglin, may I present you to Malenech, my armsmaster? He will teach you well. Obey him as you would obey me. Farewell, Legolas." He offered me a small embrace then turned and left. I would have liked to watch until he descended the stairs, but Malenech called me away.


	38. Chapter 39

"Legolas and Ereglin, from this time forth you are under my command," said Malenech. "Work hard and pay attention and you'll be a lot more likely to survive your first rotation south. This isn't a game. There are no second chances in the field. Forget your training for even a moment and your life will be forfeit. Thranduil and his father have fought the Enemy longer than almost anyone else on Arda, and the training that you'll receive is the key reason why they've done so well. Go now to the quartermaster and get your gear. You'll be rooming with some others who have recently arrived. You've got one hour to get yourself settled then I want you back here." Malenech pointed us in the direction of the storerooms and then turned and left us standing dumbly on the field.

"We'd better get started," said Ereglin, after Malenech was out of earshot. I just nodded.

The storerooms were built into the caverns on the level of the yard with wide openings tall enough to admit a cart. There were any number of people walking in the area, all heading purposefully to one task or another. The quartermaster was easy to find. He was dressed in the field outfit of green and brown and carried himself with an officious air. He bowed graciously to me as we approached.

"Ah, Legolas, you have arrived," he said, smiling. "There are many who will be pleased to serve with you. It was an honorable decision you made, and so soon into your _rein idhrin_!" he paused and looked at both of us appraisingly. "My name is Nambel. I'll see that you're properly outfitted."

I explained to him that Malenech had sent us to him and he nodded. The storerooms were vast and we spent the next half hour following Nambel with our packs open, getting provisioned with everything from blankets to trenchers to socks. After we were well loaded down, Nambel found two bows for us. They were small bows, scratched and dented from a lot of use.

"These came from the South just a few days ago," he explained. "They'll give you something to use until you can have your own bows made."

"I have a bow," I said.

"Well, those long hunting bows that you use aren't much good in the field," explained Nambel. "You'll be needing to shoot at close range, often from the confines of a tree. Not much space for a grand bow up there. These bows are far from the best, but they will be better than nothing for a short time." We added the bows to our collection.

When we were done, he directed us to the barracks, a long low line of rooms on the far side of the training field. "When you've been in the South at least once, Malenech will let you sleep in a talan near the keep. Until then you'll stay in the barracks with the rest of the newcomers. First years' room is on the left."

I nodded my thanks and Ereglin and I made our way to the barracks. I lifted the latch and pushed open the door. Two large windows let light into a spacious room occupied by two rows of three beds each. The beds were narrow but tidy. The wooden floor was light and clean. Only two of the beds seemed to be occupied. Each had a blanket spread neatly across it and had a full pack set on the floor at the head of the bed. The walls were spotless, clear of all decoration save for a series of pegs for the bows and quiver, two pegs for clothing, and a bracket for our swords. I looked around with curiosity. I'd never been in a place so sparse and devoid of decoration.

"We'd better put our things down and then get back outside," said Ereglin "I'm not sure how much of our hour we have left, but I know that I don't want to be late!" After quick deliberation, Ereglin chose a bed near the door, and I chose the bed next to his. It took just a moment to spread out our blankets, hang up our bows and put the rest of our supplies away.

We returned to our place on the training grounds none too soon. Already I could see Malenech coming our way. I brightened when I saw that Talfil was trailing behind him. Malenech looked us over from head to toe.

"You'll be training with no breaks for the next three weeks," he said, "and during that time I want to see you in company issue with your boots on. After that you'll have every sixth day off, more if your training goes well. Talfil has been here for a month. He'll take you to the armory for your swords. Aranthar will fit you properly. Meet me in the southwest corner of the training field after lunch and we'll start making soldiers of you."

The three of us looked at one another as Malenech walked away. Talfil grinned at us, and shook his head. "I can't believe that you are warriors!" he exclaimed. "I'm so happy that you're here. The swordsmaster's name is Aranthar. He's amazing. He knows absolutely everything about swords. He's got some blades in there that were forged in Doriath. You'll like him, I think."

He continued chattering as we made our way across the field. By the time we got to the armory I was feeling better. I knew who Aranthar was, but I'd never taken time to talk with him. The armory housed thousands of weapons and, according to Talfil, the arms master knew the story behind each one.

Aranthar smiled when he saw us and welcomed us in. I guessed from the way that he moved that he must be a swordmaster in his own right. Like Malenech, he had dark features, but Aranthar was more long limbed with high cheekbones, and long fingers that curved gracefully when he held a sword.

The armory was a large building with row upon row of shelves. Against one wall was a table that held the blades that were ready to be tried. In the center was an open space where the soldiers could test out the swords.

Aranthar let us look around for a moment then nodded, "Here to be fitted with a new blade, eh? Or do you want one with some history?" He put his hand on Ereglin's shoulder and spoke softly. "Ereglin, I heard that your father fell. I know it must be difficult for you and your family." He paused, "You'll want your father's sword, yes?" Ereglin took a deep breath and nodded. "You are a bit smaller than he was," Aranthar continued, "but I think it would be a good match."

Then he turned to me. "Now, Prince Legolas, from what I know of you, you'll probably train as an archer. You'll need something light and strong. Let me see you hold this one." He handed me a slender blade. I gripped it tightly. "No, she's too small for you. Not so good when you're out in the field. Let's try this here." He pulled out a sword with a smooth gray blade. The grip was wrapped in leather and deep etching was carved into the pommel. "This one has seen some battles. Hold it firmly now. It won't bite."

I went into the middle of the room and swung the blade experimentally. It felt heavy compared to my knives, but it moved easily. I looked at Aranthar.

"Well, you've got the basic idea, but there is a lot of training ahead of you. I can tell you're used to working with knives. Those won't be useful to you as a soldier." He looked critically at the sword in my hand. "You could use something a little bit longer. Wait here."

We must have tried a dozen swords before finding one that pleased Aranthar. The one he finally settled on was a beautiful single edged sword with a blade inscribed with vines. It had a wide guard that flared outwards towards the blade. The grip was thick enough to feel secure in my hand, but did not feel heavy or unbalanced. The pommel was unadorned save for two small sapphires surrounded by more of the vine.

"Your sword is your friend," said Aranthar, nodding his approval. "She will serve you well, but you must take care of her. Keep her clean and well oiled. Never return her to the sheath soiled." He handed me a leather sheath that was tooled to match the blade. I bowed as I accepted it. It was a fine gift.

I was glad that Talfil was with us for the noon meal. We ate in a wide pavilion down in the yard with the company that had been practicing during the morning. There was a great number of them, nearly a hundred, and the cadence of their voices filled the pavilion and spilled out into the heat of the midday. For the most part, they ignored us, which was fine by me. Talfil, Ereglin and I had our trenchers filled by a soldier who looked incongruous serving food, then we went to sit at one corner of the pavilion. I looked with longing across the yard. I could see Sedeliel's bakery, but I knew I had no leave to visit with her. The maple tree in the center of the yard beckoned me, but I knew that I should not climb. I sighed and turned to my trencher. The food was adequate, but I had no appetite. My musings were interrupted by the arrival of another youth. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, and he walked with the open gait of one from the village.

"Eh, Talfil!" he exclaimed. "What have you caught? Two fine fish for Malenech to eat?" He set his trencher on the table and sat down on the bench. "My name is Doronglass, but I go by Doron," he said, nodding in my direction. "You're Prince Legolas, and you must be Ereglin. Oh shards, I probably should bow or something." He blushed and looked down, then looked up again. His eyes were sparkling. "Say, you don't know how to play _hrithca_, do you? Talfil doesn't know how to play, and it's hard to teach him without a partner. He grabbed the pitcher that was on the table and poured himself some water.

I grinned, "I love to play _hrithca_, but I'll warn you, I'm good. Do you have a set of dice?"

Doron nodded, and spoke around the food in his mouth."My father made them for me last time he was home. I keep them in my pack. We can play tonight by moonlight."

"You don't think Malenech would mind?" asked Talfil worriedly.

Doron laughed, "A good game of _hrithca_ will help you to sleep better, I'm sure of it!"

By the time we had eaten and changed, the heat of the day was upon us. The issued clothing was not too uncomfortable, the brown cloth was lightweight and there were no sleeves in the tunic, to allow, I supposed, for more freedom of movement. But the boots were sturdy and stiff. I felt like I was walking in mud.

Malenech led the four of us to the edge of the training ground. The field was brilliant and flat in the hot sun. A different company was practicing swordsmanship. The sweat dripped from their faces. They were silent, save for a few grunts and an occasional oath as someone got hit.

"It's good that you have one another for training," said Malenech, looking us over. "We'll keep you together as much as possible as you train, but eventually you'll each join your own company. We try to keep the companies mixed so that the Sindar can share their strengths with the Silvans."

Doron glared at Malenech. "Indeed?" he asked evenly.

Malenech leveled a long look at Doron, "We have many good Silvan soldiers," he said at last. "That is in spite of the fact that wood elves are simply not made for battle. There is a lot we will have to train out of you to get you ready for war, so let's begin."

The afternoon was long and hot. Malenech had us running the perimeter of the training field more times than I could count. There were no trees, save for a copse of birch at the back of the field. I missed the presence of the Song. My feet were hot and heavy in the boots. Still, I gave it my best. Talfil and Doron had no problem keeping up, but Ereglin was winded long before we were done.

"Three extra laps for you after supper, Ereglin," said Malenech. "Yrch will easily catch up with you at your pace."

When we were done running, Malenech set us to wrestling. It was similar to the wrestling that I'd done with Brethilas, but there were any number of new tricks to learn. Doron was quick and nimble and had already mastered several of the holds. He had both Ereglin and I on our backs more than once. By the end of the afternoon we were all exhausted. Malenech finally dismissed us with a terse nod of the head. "Supper, then running for you, Boronelion."

Supper was a silent affair. We were all too tired to talk. Ereglin cleaned his plate and looked despondently at it. "Well," he said with a sigh, "I'm off for three more laps."

It didn't set well to have him so miserable. "Running?" I said lightly. "Ereglin, you shouldn't have to do that alone. Do you mind if I join you?"

He looked at me, "You're joking, right?"

"No," I said, making up my mind. "If you run, I run." I stood up, "Well," I asked the others, "are you coming?"

Talfil and Doron looked at one another and then looked at me.  
"Why not?" said Doron with a shrug. Talfil nodded. The four of us made our way to the training field. The sun was well past its zenith and the heat of the day was giving way to a temperate evening. The leaves on the birches in the corner of the training field shimmered in the light. Without speaking I turned and set an easy loping pace. Ereglin, Doron and Talfil fell in beside me.

Unlike the morning run where we had each gone our own rate, this run was for Ereglin. We all met his stride. It was a soothing rhythm to run like that, making music together as our feet hit the ground. We ran the field twice, keeping stride with Ereglin. As we entered the second half of the third time around the field I glanced over at my meldir. He was sweating hard. He breathed deeply as he ran, but he wasn't running his hardest. Very slowly I increased my pace. The other runners kept up with me. I increased my pace again. Again they kept up with me. I heard Ereglin swear softly as I increased the pace yet again. When we came to the end of our run, I slowed to a walk.

"Legolas!" exclaimed Ereglin between breaths, "What was that for?"

I grinned at him, "I knew you could do it."

When we got to the barracks the first thing I did was to take off the heavy boots. They hit the ground with a thud. Everyone else was taking of their boots as well. Doron dug around in his pack and pulled out six cylindrical dice. We sat on the floor in a circle and he set the dice down in the center.

"It's a game of patterns," he explained to Talfil, pointing to the different leaf shapes carved on the faces of each six sided die. "You play for patterns. The best pattern shows each different leaf, the least pattern is two of the same. There are any number of others. I'll teach you as we go. You get four rolls to build the patterns into your set."

Doron went on to describe the scoring for the game. He gave Talfil a few tips to get started and then the game got underway. Ereglin and I had played _hrithca_ often as a twosome, but playing with partners was much more fun. We played a few rounds.

"So, what's it like being Prince?" asked Doron casually, tossing the dice for the fourth time.

"What's it like not being Prince?" I countered.

He looked at me, "You live with the Sinda, you look like a Sinda, but Malenech put you with the rest of us Laegrim in his comments today. I was just wondering how you count yourself."

Slowly I turned to Doron, and took his measure. "I am of the Laegrim," I said at last. "I come from Celthar's village. I learned my child songs there; I first ran the ropes there. My family is there. But I am also Prince and I can act with that authority. I have no love for protocol, and for now it suits me to be counted as one from the village." I looked at the floor where the dice lay, "You also just threw the milt hand. That puts Ereglin and me in the lead. Now what kind of Sinda could beat you like that?"

Doron looked at the dice, looked at me shrewdly then grinned, "I'll take you as you are, Legolas of the village. It's your turn."

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	39. Chapter 40

I woke in the grey before dawn. It took me a moment to remember where I was. Ereglin, Talfil and Doron were all sleeping soundly. They didn't wake as I dressed. Ereglin stirred a bit as I lifted the latch, but he was used to my morning ministrations and I knew that he would settle again. I stepped outside. The gravel of the training field was rough under my bare feet. I was glad to reach the stairs to make my way down to the yard where I planned to greet the dawn from a perch in the great maple.

I looked around as I crossed the yard. Selidiel's ovens were already lit and lantern light shone from the windows of the bakery. The rest of the buildings were still shrouded in shadow. I considered visiting with Selidiel for a few minutes, but the day was fast approaching, so I made my way to the tree and quickly climbed high into its welcoming boughs.

It had been a long time since I'd greeted the dawn from the arms of the tree. In the caverns it had been my habit to perch on the windowsill in my room and look over the little woods and lake in the valley. Carefully I turned and set my back against the trunk of the tree. Through a gap in the foliage I could look over the ramparts to see the dark mantle of woods on the hills outside the keep. The river was hidden, but I envisioned it moving quietly along its course just outside the walls. The air was still and held an edge of warmth that augured a hot day to come. From the canopy of the woods came the sounds of hundreds of birds singing their morning song. Soon I lifted my voice to join them. I sang with them for a time, and then I began singing my own songs to greet the rising sun. I was so lost in the music of the moment that it took me some time to realize that someone was calling my name.

"Legolas! Legolas come down!"

I peered down from my perch in the tree. Malenech was standing far below me. He looked tall and stern as he looked into the branches. I stopped singing, a little unsettled at his admonition, but obediently climbed down and dropped lightly to the ground.

"What did I tell you about the first three weeks of training?" Malenech asked evenly as I stood before him.

"You said that we were on duty for the first three weeks." Malenech nodded. He was waiting for more. I looked at him. "You said that you wanted to see us in uniform at boots at all times." Still Malenech was silent. I felt very awkward, as though I had been doing something wrong. "All I was doing was singing in the dawn," I said softly. "I do it every day."

"_Did_ it every day. Legolas, I don't know why your father encouraged you in Silvan ways, but you need to understand that there are many things that will need to be changed to make you into a good soldier. Your habit of singing in the dawn as you call it would be the death of you and your company if you were to do it in the South. You are now in training, you are under my command and you will not sing again without my permission for the next three weeks. Return to the barracks and put your boots on. Report to me after breakfast for extra duty. Is that understood?"

I was so surprised at Malenech's words that I had no ready response. I squared my shoulders and finally nodded my head. We left the tree together. I suppressed the urge to look back at the welcoming limbs as we departed.

After breakfast we followed Malenech to a field just east of the gates where about a dozen posts were set deeply into the ground. They were widely spaced and came to about head height. The top third of each pell was covered in thick leather. Glathraen was there. He was a Sinda and often sat with my father during councils of war. He had never had time for me before, but looked Ereglin and me over appraisingly as we approached. A gust of wind caught his hair and blew it about his shoulders; an incongruous movement compared to the firmness of his jaw and the sober strength in his eyes.

"So, Legolas and Eriglin, you have come to work at the pells?" he asked, not waiting to be introduced, "You'll learn much from me, and more from your own body if you pay attention. Go and help yourselves to a practice sword."

While Ereglin and I followed Doron and Talfil to a crate containing the practice swords, Glathraen and Malenech spoke quietly to one another. I heard my name spoken, but could not hear the rest of what they were saying.

The practice swords were made of a single piece of wood. They were as long as a real sword, but had no guard. I gripped the hilt of one of them firmly and went to stand as I had been told.

"Here's where you begin to fight the enemy," said Glathraen, before setting us to work. "This goes best if you pretend the pells are orcs. If you feel like you're holding back, just remember the malaise and destruction that the enemy has done to the woods. Remember too, the loss of the fathers and brothers of the people you know. Keep in mind," he said, gazing into our eyes, "that this enemy wants nothing more than to see you suffer, wants nothing less than to see you dead. Here is where you can turn your sorrow to anger and your anger into fighting! Every stroke on the pells brings you one step closer to saving the woods from the darkness!"

He showed us how to hold the sword as well as some basic cuts, thrusts and slices. These he set to a pattern that he had us practice in the air until we had the sequence down. Only then did he have us stand in front of a pell to practice our strokes.

At first I felt silly going at the pell with my wooden sword. Glathraen came up behind me and admonished me. "Not enough strength in those strikes, Legolas! This isn't a game. You need to kill the enemy not dance with him! Ereglin, you know what they did to your father. They killed him in cold blood with no remorse. They'll kill you too if you don't put some force into your blows!"

Ereglin and I fell to the posts with renewed vigor. The dull thwack of wood hitting leather echoed through the clearing. I remembered the anger I had felt when Luinthol lay dying. I renewed that anger and gave myself fully to every stroke. I hit the pell until my arm was numb and my back ached with the effort of raising the sword time and time again. Glathraen allowed us to stop only long enough to correct our hold or our stance and then he set us to work again. Several times he reminded us of the anger and resolve that must burn in our hearts in order to fight effectively.

"Anger isn't rage," he admonished Doron at one point, "You've got the force, but you need the control. Focus yourself on the task at hand. Make each stroke count. Accuracy is everything."

I attacked the pell until I could hardly hold my sword. Only then did Glathraen relent. "Step down now, recruits. You've had the first day at the pells and you'll have many more. We'll make fighters of you yet."

I was breathing hard, but I allowed my muscles to relax. The heat of the day was coming on fast and sweat was running down my back and dripping from my brow. I took the tail of my tunic and wiped my face. What I wouldn't give for a swim! I looked at Ereglin. There was a grim determination in his countenance that had not been there before. He saw me watching him and smiled then shrugged. "Damn orcs," he said, only half teasing, "I'll kill them all."

Glathraen handed each of us a waterskin filled with tepid water. I drank mine eagerly. "Malenech told me that when I was done with you I was to send you to the archery range at the end of the lake," he said while we drank. "Go by the barracks and get your bows. I'd run if I were you. It's not wise to keep Malenech waiting."

I drew Malenech's ire the second time that day at the archery range. The little bows that Ereglin and I had were well made but short. It made drawing them all that much more difficult. Added to that, my arm was tired from holding the sword, and I confess that I was nervous. Even with all that, I might have done passably well, save for the fact that I tried Talfil's technique while shooting. I must have cocked my head to listen, because Malenech was on me at once.

"Explain to me, Legolas, how you are shooting."

I lowered my bow, "I set the arrow, draw and aim. I take a moment to listen, to envision-"

"Stop!" said Malenech. "Do you want to return from the field filled with the Darkness you are fighting?" he exclaimed, "How can I impress on you that you must not listen in the field? Orcs are no more than sinew and bones moved by the Enemy, but the Darkness they hold will enter your soul if you listen near to them. Don't make yourself vulnerable in that way! Now try again, but this time, aim with your eyes."

I tried as he said, but the arrow went well wide of the mark.

Malenech shook his head in disgust. I knew that I had disappointed him.

When we gathered for _hrithca_ that evening, I was almost too tired to play. Archery had been followed by wrestling, running and then some time on the ropes. Talfil was able to run the ropes with a full pack and a bow in one hand. I'd have to work hard to best him. Doron, on the other hand, was much too impatient to be safe. He did not work with the swaying of the ropes, but tried to run off of them before he fell. Thankfully, we were practicing on low ropes, or he might have been injured.

"Same partners as last night?" asked Doron as he dug in his pack. We'd kicked off our boots and sat on the floor. Talfil was stretched out on his belly.

Talfil shook his head."We'd better split up Legolas and Ereglin or neither one of us will win."

"Speak for yourself," said Doron. "Yesterday I just had a bad run." He put the dice on the floor. "But if you insist I'll choose the Prince. You and Ereglin can play together."

We played several rounds. Doron and I won all but one of them. He was a good player, and I had the advantage of knowing Ereglin's playing style. The long evening eventually deepened into dusk. Rather than light a lamp, at the end of the round I stood and stretched and began getting ready for bed.

Ereglin looked at me and tilted his head, "No singing tonight, Legolas? Is something wrong?"

I shrugged. "Malenech and I came to an understanding about my singing today, Ereglin. I'll not be singing while training."

"Does that mean he caught you singing?" asked Talfil, "He caught me dancing one evening after supper. He didn't raise his voice, he just made me feel about two inches tall. Evidently warriors don't dance."

"Orothador and his companions dance. I saw them dance the _uruvae_ once," said Ereglin.

"Well, I don't suppose he has much to say about that," said Talfil, "but I had to promise I wouldn't dance while in training. It makes me ache sometimes. I just want to move to the music of the Song."

"And I'd like to sing." I sighed, "But for now that's the way of it. I'm for bed." It might have felt good to go on with our grumbling, but Malenech was in charge and Istuilalf had taught me that such grumbling would come to no good end.

I looked forward to my first day of freedom with eager anticipation. When it came, I was up early to the woods to sing in the dawn, well away from Malenech's domain. A company was due in from the South, and I hoped for news of my father.

Talfil, Ereglin, Doron and I were perched in the trees near the bridge when the company arrived. Scouts had heralded their arrival for much of the morning.

Companies leaving the keep always marched in formation, but these soldiers walked in clusters of two and three. They were weary. Their outfits were often torn or stained and their faces had a drawn and haunted look; a miasma that would stay with them for several days after returning home. They did not sing, but spoke quietly or not at all. A faint odor of decay and darkness wafted up to where we were sitting. I was afraid that things had not gone well.

Suddenly, I spied Luinthol among the troops. I had seen him amidst his company before, and I always took time to speak with him when I could.

"Luinthol!" I cried out, quickly scrambling from the tree. "Luinthol, over here!"

Luinthol looked around until he spotted me. A smile lit his face. He broke free of the company and came to where I stood. My companions descended and came to stand behind me.

"Eh, Legolas! How are you?"

"I am fine," I responded. "But I'm hungry for news from the South. If I carry your pack and guide you to Sedeliel for some fresh bread, do you think you could tell me how things are?"

Luinthol looked at me critically. "I suppose you're looking for news of your father. But what's this?" He peered closely at me, and shook his head sadly, "Have you joined the fight then, Legolas? I am sorry to hear of it, though I don't doubt you'll make a fine warrior. It's bad business to be tangled in, that's all."

Quickly I introduced him to Talfil and Doron. He wouldn't share his pack, but he did walk with us across the yard to Sedilel's bakery.

Sedeliel must have seen us approaching. She emerged from the building wiping her hands on her long gray apron. "Mae govenan!" she exclaimed. "Luinthol, welcome back!" She looked at me and then grinned. Her eyes sparkled, "Legolas it's so good to see you are free of the warriors for a bit! Not that you seem to be doing too poorly, at least not when I've seen you eating with the troops. You can't come over to visit, I understand, but I imagine you've missed my honey cakes? Why don't all of you sit down and let me see what I can find." Quickly, she pushed two little tables together and Doron and Ereglin helped to arrange the chairs around them.

With a sigh of relief, Luinthol set down his pack and accepted a chair. Sedeliel soon brought out a tray with cups, a pitcher filled with cold juice and a platter heaped high with a variety of fresh bread. I grabbed a honey cake and was soon savoring its taste on my tongue.

"What news from the South?" asked Doron when we had finished the first round of rolls.

Luinthol sighed and gazed at the bread in his hand before speaking. "It's been awhile since we've claimed much of a victory."

"Surely you have more to tell than that," said Doron. "What has been happening?"

Luinthol tore a piece off his roll and ate it. "Let me give you the long view." He said at last, gesturing with the remaining roll, "Seventy five years ago, the enemy crossed the Old Forest Road and we were hard pressed to keep them out of the mountains. Fifty years ago was the first assault on the Mountains of Mirkwood. Thirty years ago they took the mountains, leaving us a little slice of land between the foothills on the north side of the mountains and the Misteden River. Are you with me so far?"

"I knew that already," said Doron impatiently.

"Well," said Luinthol, "They have taken the strip at least once. We even had reports of spiders crossing the river about twenty years ago, but we beat them back and we've been trying to keep them contained to the mountains ever since. This spring saw a major incursion. The King called out extra troops. So far we've been able to hold our own, but not without losses."

"But how did your company fare?" asked Ereglin, when it seemed as though Luinthol would not continue.

Luinthol finished his roll and said nothing.

"Luinthol?" asked Talfil.

When Luinthol responded he sounded almost angry. "We were under attack for days at a time, Talfil! Our warriors fought hard, but two of our number fell and Aranthar was captured. But for the _milui-criss_ he would have been taken away and tortured."

"The _milui-criss?_ What's that?" I asked. I had never heard the term before. Luinthol looked down and would not answer me.

"It's the mercy-cut," said Talfil at last in a quiet voice. "When someone is taken, it is kinder to kill them with the arrow of a friend than to let them suffer by the hand of the enemy. My father says that it is a task given to the best archer in the company."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, "Wouldn't it be better to rescue the person? To save them?"

"Attempting to save someone usually just compounds the losses," said Talfil soberly. "The King used to allow rescues until he lost twelve warriors one time in a rescue attempt. Now the protocol is the _milui-criss."_

"But who would do that? Who would kill one of their own?"

"I did," whispered Luinthol. He tried to look at me, then turned and wiped his eyes with his hand.

We sat in silence after that.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked finally.

Luinthol shook his head and gave me a crooked grin. "Your songs won't heal me this time, Legolas. I've been through the Darkness, and I'll find my way through this too." He shrugged, "I'm a warrior, and I'm good at what I do. I need to focus on the fact that I saved Aranthar from a lot of pain and suffering."

"You did the best you could," offered Talfil, "That's all anyone could ask of you. Did anyone sing lamentations for Aranthar?"

Luinthol shook his head, "It all happened so fast. There hasn't been any time. Perhaps tonight my company will sing."

"We'll be there with you tonight," I said. "We can't do much more, but at least we can do that."

Luinthol nodded. Tears welled up in his eyes again. "Thank you," he said at last. He stood and pushed his chair back. "I'd better get back to my company. If I don't claim a _talan_ soon, there will be none left." He shouldered his pack, turned and strode across the yard.

When we entered the midsummer clearing that night it was clear that more than Luinthol's company was there. There were many people from the keep and from the community around the caverns. Orothador was there, as was Istuilalf. It was almost as many as would come to a festival, but the tone was subdued and quiet. Luinthol saw us and came to join us.

"I had no idea that Aranthar would have so many singers," I said after greeting him.

"Aranthar will be honored tonight, but these people come to sing for Boronel."

"My father?" said Ereglin, "But he had lamentations sung in the field."

"Be that as it may," said Luinthol. "There were many who loved your father and who needed to say farewell. Come over here. Your mother and sister are waiting."

There was no fire lit that night. Lamentations were always sung beneath the stars. For hours we stood and sang the harmonies of sorrow, of hope and of letting go. There was no real melody, just voices blending in chords of rich complexity in a rhythm that echoed the Song of the woods. We sang and we wept and we sang again. When we were done we stood in silence for some time, watching the brilliant stars glide in their timeless journey across the sky. People departed by ones and twos until, in the darkness just before dawn, we stood alone with Luinthol. Finally, as the stars began to dim, Luinthol took a deep breath and nodded. Silently we made our way from the clearing. A new day was dawning and the time of public mourning was done.

-0-00—0-0-0-0

Thanks to ziggy3 for allowing me to use her _milui-criss. _She's an amazing writer.

Let me know your thoughts on this chapter. My muse feeds on your feedback!


	40. Chapter 41

_Thanks to my wonderful beta, Elfscribe. _

"Hold your sword higher, Legolas!" admonished Glathraen. "You can't block properly with it down there!" My blade moved swiftly to block Ereglin's sword. The practice swords clanged together with a sharp, brittle sound. I lifted, then twisted the blade, thrusting suddenly to my right. Ereglin had no time to block and I scored my point.

It had taken many weeks of work, but Glathraen had finally taken us off the pells so that he could begin teaching engagement skills. I found working with a partner was much to my liking. Each of my companions offered me a different challenge. Doron was bold and preferred strength to strategy. Ereglin's methodical approach was solid, but often slow. Talfil offered the greatest sport. We had a similar style, quick and clever. I enjoyed trying to anticipate his next move, and he took great delight in trying to outmaneuver me. When given the choice, we often paired ourselves together.

"Time!" called Glathraen. "Put your swords away and run five laps around the training field. Then you can break for lunch."

"It would be too easy to just dismiss us," said Ereglin under his breath as he untied the padded tunic that novice swordsmen wore. "I'm famished_."_

I ran the perimeter of the training field in a long easy lope. Autumn was at its height of color and the air was crisp and clean. The birches at the end of the field were cloaked in brilliant yellow, the leaves shone brightly against the deep blue sky. I grinned as I ran. It had been a good morning of training and there was a song in my heart, even if I could not sing aloud.

Malenech was waiting for us at the top of the stairs. He glanced over my companions and nodded my way. "Legolas, a word."

I had grown used to his stern demeanor. Standing patiently as Doron, Ereglin and Talfil walked around me and headed down the stairs, I waited for Malenech to speak.

"We've got a new recruit due in this afternoon. I want you to make sure that the barracks are spotless and see that he gets the support he needs to fit in with your group. I don't have time to make a class for just one recruit. He'll have to catch up with all of you."

I knew better than to argue. "We'll do our best," I said, placing my hand over my heart and bowing, then I made my way down the stairs.

Lunch was a hearty stew of venison, carrots and beans. I added several slices of fresh bread to my trencher and a thick slab of yellow cheese. I made my way to the table where we usually sat.

"What was that all about?" asked Doron. He sat casually on the bench with his elbows on the table.

"There's a new recruit coming," I said, setting my trencher on the table. "Malenech wants the barrack to be spotless. That's on your watch, Doron, You'll have to get your things off of the empty bunks."

"It's not that bad!" he protested.

"Is there anyone with him?" asked Talfil from the end of the table. "I was the only person in my class for awhile. Dealing with Malench by myself was terrible. It was much easier when Doron arrived, and it got even better when the two of you showed up."

I cut a wide slice of cheese and set it on the bread. "Malenech said that he'll be training with us. We've got to get him caught up to where we are."

"But we've been training for four months," protested Doron. "How are we supposed to do that?"

I shrugged. "Those are the orders. It's up to us to see it done."

"Well, he'd better come with some skill at the sword," grumbled Doron. "We've just been released from those pells and I'm not ready to go back to them for the sake of some beginner from the village."

"You were from the village not so long ago," reminded Talfil. "We should at least give him a chance."

"Oh, no," said Doron, visibly annoyed. "When Legolas and Ereglin showed up we had only a few weeks of training. They've been here for nearly three months. It will be impossible for him to catch up. He'll slow us down."

"Calm down," I said. "You will get to fight your orcs soon enough, Gaervornion. I'll eat your bread if you don't want it."

Doron stuffed the bread in his mouth and said no more.

After lunch we made our way to the eastern clearing for wrestling. It was a loamy spot surrounded by pines, about ten minutes walk from the bridge. As usual, we ran along the path. Halfway there I simply had to stop to admire the scenery. The beauty of the day was overwhelming. Laurel and birch were interspersed with ash and maple trees, each outdoing the other in autumnal color. Ferns and wild sumac grew beneath the trees in great clusters. At the top of a tall sycamore I could hear a pair of squirrels arguing over some small thing. I took a deep breath and savored the feeling of gentle strength that the trees gave me. An inexplicable excitement grew in my heart and made my shoulders and arms tingle. I grinned and hurried to meet my companions.

When I arrived in the clearing, Doron and Ereglin were already stripped to the waist, poised like two great herons, studying each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Ereglin was taller, but Doron had the breadth in his arms and shoulders that often gave him the advantage of strength.

Talfil had taken an apple from lunch and was taking large bites of it and chewing loudly. The sound was incongruous and I almost laughed out loud.

Suddenly, Ereglin made a feint to Doron's left. Swift as a lynx, Doron blocked the attack and moved forward, shifted his weight, then grabbed Ereglin and leaned heavily against him. Locked together, each modified their footing to try to gain the advantage. In one fluid movement, Doron bent his knees and leveraged his shoulder against Ereglin's chest. Ereglin lost his balance for just a moment, but that was all it took for Doron to press his advantage. They scuffled for a few moments , then Doron threw Ereglin to the ground and pinned him.

"For shame, Boronelion, you'll have to do better than that!" Malenech stepped into the clearing. "I had hoped to show our new recruit some excellent wrestling, but your defenses were down." I turned to face Malenech and caught sight of the new recruit.

He stepped into the clearing, and for a moment I did not recognize him. Then, in a flash, I was running across the clearing and embracing him in a hug.

"Brethilas!" I exclaimed, pounding him on the shoulder. I stepped back and grinned, taking his measure in an instant.

Brethilas was dressed in the shirt and breeches of the village. His dark brown hair was braided simply to keep it off of his face, although I noticed that it had been cut to just below the shoulder blades in the style of the warriors. He carried no pack or cloak. Travelling light was the way of the Laegrim. A smile dawned on his face as his gray eyes met mine.

"Legolas!" he cried, "Shards, it's good to see you, cousin! There are so many people here and the keep is huge. I thought it would be days before I could find you."

The tingle of joy flowed from my heart and I knew then why I had been so happy, "It's good to see you as well, Brethilas, but how did you ever get permission from Nathel to come?"

"Word reached the village of your enlisting, and I decided to follow your lead. Ada and Naneth are proud of you, although they worry for your safety. I think they sent me in part to take care of you. Better the two of us against the Enemy instead of just one!"

"It takes a good deal of training to fight the Enemy," said Doron. He came over to where we were standing and looked Brethilas over appraisingly. "There is a lot to learn that isn't taught in the village."

The smile vanished from Brethilas' face. "I know I've got a lot to learn, but I've had some training."

"Can you fight with swords or shoot the short bow?" asked Doron, "You'll need both to be a soldier here."

"That's why I've come," said Brethilas, not backing down. "If you think I'm lacking, I'll be happy to put you in your place."

"Fighting is forbidden," said Talfil anxiously, looking at Malenech, who crossed his arms and looked impassively between Doron and Brethilas.

"A wager then," said Doron quickly. "We'll wrestle, and the first one pinned takes five laps before supper."

"Done," said Brethilas. He took off his shirt and set it on the ground. "Legolas, you'll have to spot me. Are five laps a fair wager?"

"Fair enough," I responded, "but you're running on gravel. It's best to wear boots ."

"I don't have any boots, so I'd better not lose," said Brethilas. "Who am I fighting anyway?"

"Brethilas, meet Doron," I said. "And he's Talfil," I said, nodding in his direction.

"Enough talk," said Doron. He walked over to the loamy part of the clearing. Brethilas followed him. Doron crouched in a ready stance. The sunlight glanced off his broad back. The work of the past few months had created well-defined muscles. Brethilas, on the other hand, stood with his hands at his sides.

"This is going to be too easy," said Doron under his breath. With a single step he lunged at Brethilas.

Brethilas put his arm out and held Doron at bay. He thrust a foot between Doron's legs, hooked his ankle, pulled sharply. Doron stumbled to the ground. Brethilas wasted no time, but plunged down on top of Doron and pulled him into a pin. The whole maneuver took less than ten seconds.

I heard a guffaw from Malenech. When I looked, he was hiding a smile behind his hand.

"Fair enough?" said Brethilas, extending a hand to help Doron up.

"Not fair," said Doron scowling. "That's not playing by the rules."

Malenech cleared his throat. "I have yet to meet an orc that plays by the rules, Doron. Brethilas has won the bet, and I'm charging him with teaching you his technique. When you're done with your efforts here, make sure that Brethilas is properly equipped. You may have the rest of the day to yourselves. Report to me in the morning."

I saw Malenech shake his head as he walked away. I swear I heard him chuckle.

Brethilas proved to be an asset to the group. His easygoing temperament balanced Doron's tempestuous nature. He also proved to be a quick learner. After he had been with us a week, I arranged some evening lessons to help him catch up. Doron was eager to be his tutor and the two became fast friends.

The splendor of autumn gave way to a mild winter, filled with grey days that brought more rain than snow. When I was tempted to complain of working in the chill dampness, I reminded myself of the warriors in the field who had no warm barracks to welcome them at the end of the day. Normally the cold would send the orcs into shelter, but the mild weather meant that there was no respite in the South. Hardly a fortnight passed without hearing of someone's death. The injured came in a steady trickle and the healers did what they could. Luinthol's company rested and trained for only a few months before they were called South again. Normally, there were three or four companies in training, but the number dwindled to two and then to one. My little company of recruits continued to train, but it was hard for the weather not to dampen our spirits.

As the wet winter gave way to a gray spring, our training entered a new phase. Now, in addition to training, we took shifts on the patrols that guarded the road to the caverns. Normally, we would take to the ropes and man our posts from the trees, but often the rain and the mist of the season made running the ropes unsafe so we had to patrol on foot, trudging through the gray dampness in our forest green cloaks.

It was on one such morning, when patrolling the main road with Brethilas, that the sound of horse hooves brought me to full alertness. We both stepped into the roadway to halt the rider. I could see from a distance that it was a black horse, one of the captain's mounts. The rider was no captain, dressed as he was in the green and brown of the troops. Even from a distance, I could see that he was intent on his mission, leaning forward as though to urge the horse to move faster. He approached at a gallop, and for a moment, I feared that we would be run over. At the last moment he reined in. The horse stood breathing hard with sides heaving. The rider did not dismount.

"State your business," I said with as much authority in my voice as I could muster.

"I'm Hargam, with Lainethir's company. I come from the South bearing messages from the King!"

"What news?" asked Brethilas.

"You'll hear soon enough," said the messenger. "It does not go well in the South. The King is calling all soldiers to duty. Now let me pass." We stepped back and the messenger urged his horse onward. Soon the sound of his hoof beats receded into the woods.

When we returned to the keep that evening, the place was buzzing with activity. The one remaining company was preparing to depart the next day. There was a large gathering of warriors around the quartermaster and Malenech's voice could be heard giving commands to the troops as they prepared to leave.

Brethilas and I had barely arrived at the steps to the training field when we were met by Doron, bounding down the stairs towards us. "Legolas, Brethilas, I'm glad that you're here! Malenech says that we must report for duty. We're going South!"

I stood stunned. The news was unexpected and it didn't seem real. I had thought that we would have a full year to train, but Malenech must have decided that we were prepared. For a long time, I had thought that I wanted to take up arms to fight the enemy. Now it was really going to happen. .

"Tell me more," I said to Doron. "What exactly did he say?"

"We are to travel together to the field. Once we're there he will place us with companies. He would have liked for us to train with our new companies here, but the King has ordered all able-bodied warriors to arms. We leave in the morning!"

Doron was eager to be on his way. I stood aside to let him go. When Brethilas and I got to the barracks, Talfil and Ereglin were busily filling their packs. I took off my cloak and hung it on a peg.

"You heard the news?" asked Ereglin. I nodded. "Malenech says that you and Talfil will serve as archers. Doron, Brethilas and I will carry bows, but we are better with the sword."

"That will place you much closer to the action," I said. I was excited, but also a little apprehensive.

"That's the idea when killing orcs!" said Ereglin with a laugh.

We left just before dawn the next day. Torches had been lit in the yard. There was very little noise as the company gathered and arranged themselves into rows. Malenech was coming with us. He assigned the five of us a place in the middle of the company, placing himself near the rear of the column. At first I thought we'd be marching in our training garb, but at the last minute, Nambel was able to find field clothes that fit. Sedeliel was there, standing outside of the bakery to send us on our way. I caught her eye and smiled and she waved at me.

We sang as we departed, not a song of the woods, but a Sindarin song that set a regular tempo and rhythm. I marched proudly through the gates and across the bridge. The company was departing to face the enemy. The time had come for me to fight.


	41. Chapter 42

Thanks to Elfscribe and the lizards.

It took four days of marching to reach the South. For much of that time we marched in formation, four abreast, taking breaks to eat and sleep. We took the Maegrist road that cut like an arrow through miles of virgin timber. There were not many villages on this road; we were passed by few travelers. On the second day we were met by a cluster of warriors bearing an injured soldier on a litter. He was unconscious and the bandages on his head were dark and bloody. A healer in our midst offered to help, but his comrades were bent on getting him to the caverns as soon as possible.

By the end of the third day, the woods that we passed began showing signs of stress. The trees were delayed in leafing out and the ground, which should have been covered by early spring growth was empty and bare. We made camp that evening in a clearing surrounded by oaks and pines. My little group of recruits joined with several warriors to collect firewood. There was no shortage of dead wood. We quickly gathered enough for several warm fires, which were spread evenly over the length of the clearing. While we collected wood, others went hunting, but they had little success. The stew that night was served late. It was thin and watery and did little to fill the belly.

Cambellas was an affable warrior who had been walking next to us in formation. His eyes spoke of a long life, but he had a wide and welcoming smile. He came over to where we were eating. "Get used to the stew tonight, young ones. After today, the hunting will be poor. Animals don't like this part of the forest. Even less once we cross the river."

"Thanks for the encouragement," I said, gesturing for him to join us as we sat around the fire. "What other news can you tell us?"

Cambellas sat on a log that we had drawn over for sitting. "Well, for me the spiders are the worst of it. Big enough to kill a man they are. The orcs fight best at night and the spiders are right there with them. Sometimes it feels like I do most of my fighting in the night; I certainly don't sleep soundly. You never know when there's an ambush ready to happen."

"Don't frighten the children," teased a tall warrior named Himor, coming over to join our group. "What Cambellas says is true, but only if you sleep on the ground. You'll learn soon enough to sleep in the trees, above where the spiders climb."

"But what if I fall?" asked Ereglin. He had never been overly comfortable near the tree tops.

"It will save the orcs some work." Himor grinned. "Actually, I feel safer in the trees. We've put up a lot of ropes during the past two decades and now you can get just about anywhere without setting foot on the ground. Orcs are the devil to fight, but they're not that smart and they know that they can't run the ropes. Every now and again you can pick off quite a lot of them by shooting from the trees. Have you ever seen an orc?"

We all shook our heads.

"Ugly they are and there's not one of them isn't disfigured in some way," said the warrior. "Some say that they were born that way, others say that they are disfigured on purpose. It's part of what makes them so cussed mean."

"What's it like to kill an orc?" asked Doron.

The warrior set his bowl and trencher on the ground. He leaned forward. The light from the fire played across his face. "It's like nothing you've ever done before. It's not like hunting, there at least you've got the animal's spirit reuniting with the woods, so there is some good come of it, but killing an orc? They are empty shells of skin, sinew and bones. It's the darkness within them that makes them move. Sometimes after I've killed a handful of orcs, I feel the darkness crawling over me, trying to get in. It dissipates eventually, but you don't want to stay around dead orcs or the darkness will try to claim you."

"Now who's giving them nightmares?" asked Cambellas. He shook his head. "Although what he says is true. It helps to have something beautiful in your mind when you are killing orc. It reminds you of what you are fighting for and helps keep the darkness at bay. But the darkness? It's all around you in the South. At first you really notice it, like a dim fog that hangs between the trees, but after you've been South for a few weeks, you get used to it. You can't ever let down your guard entirely though or you'll have nightmares or worse."

I set my food aside. Suddenly I wasn't so hungry any more. I wanted to go and climb a tree and sing and sing until I was back in balance, but I knew that that recourse was closed to me. For months I had trained to fight the enemy, but until that moment the enemy had always seemed distant and far away. Sitting in the desolate clearing, hearing the two warriors speaking, made things all too real. The thought of killing orc didn't excite me in the way it excited Doron. I would stand firm and fight the darkness, but the task ahead weighed on my heart. For my beloved woods I would do it but the thought brought me no pleasure. I kept thinking about the orcs.

"Have they no soul, then?" I asked at length. "The orcs. Are they truly just skin, sinew and bone?"

"And meanness," said Cambellas. "They hate elves with a passion and will go to great lengths to create as much pain and suffering as possible. It's like their appetites thrive on causing hurt. That's why you never want to be captured by orcs. They'll be a lot more concerned with hurting you than killing you outright. No, Legolas, they have no soul, which makes killing them easier, if you see what I mean."

I slept poorly that night; the sights and stories from the day stayed with me.

We broke camp early the next morning and filed into formation for the day's march. The warriors were quiet and subdued. They seemed almost apprehensive about the darkness to come. Every now and then someone would mutter or talk for a bit, but we felt low. Cambellas tried to lift our spirits by leading us in more Sindarin marching songs, but the music was flat and not to my liking. As we marched, the woods became progressively more desolate. I heard few birds in the canopy, and the cacophony of life song from the many small animals became progressively more distant and dim.

It was mid afternoon when we reached the river. The sky had gradually been turning grayer as we marched. There was a dampness in the air. A feeling of discord tugged at my heart. We marched silently, our unison steps sounding hollow on the dirt road, passing hemlocks and ash that looked progressively more beaten. We finally topped a rise that overlooked the river valley. As we crested the hill, the company broke formation, making its way down into the broad meadow below. I stood where I was, overwhelmed at what I saw. On the far shore, as far as the eye could see, was a dim mist that lay like a serpent upon the forest, writhing with unnatural undulations. The trees were stunted and unseasonably bare . Large chunks of bark had fallen from many of the limbs, leaving the cambium exposed. I reached out to listen and my knees nearly buckled beneath me. No song from the trees, the plants, the birds, or the animals, only a faint, fractious keening from the dying woods. From horizon to horizon, the suffering and darkness resonated. At first, I thought my heart would break, but then a fierce anger filled me. How dare the enemy do this to my woods? A deep protectiveness was kindled in my heart and I knew, without a doubt, that I would fight.

"Easy there, Legolas." I turned to find Cambellas standing behind me. "You see now what it is that we are up against."

"Is it beyond hope?" I asked, afraid of his answer.

"Nothing is beyond hope, but the darkness will tell you it is so. We do not fight for those who have died, but for those who are living. So long as there is a single tree standing, striving for healing, we will fight to protect it. We are the forest, Legolas, and we will protect our own!"

"I am a _tauron_, Cambellas. Caring for the woods is my life and my passion, but I do not know if I am worthy of this battle."

Cambellas met my eyes. "It is said that fighting wounds the soul of the wood elf, and I find that to be true. But wounding is sometimes part of the process of healing. If you have doubts, they must be dealt with tonight. Any faltering before the enemy is deadly."

I looked across the water again. The shadows dominated the far shore. The blighted forest stretched as far as I could see. I could not fathom the breadth nor the depth of the depravity set before me. It was an abomination that should not exist.

"I do not doubt that I will fight, Cambellas. I only question whether it will be enough."

Cambellas put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. "You will give what you have to this battle, as many have before you. Just remember that you do not fight alone and never, ever give up hope. Hope and fellowship will feed you and sustain you in the days to come."

I nodded. I was too brokenhearted to speak. Cambellas was right. I would fight. Sorrow to anger, anger to action, action to victory. So it must be. I covered my face with my hands and wept.

We were awakened the next morning by a messenger arriving from the far bank. He came on a broad supply raft that he maneuvered with a pole. The messenger did not delay but went directly to the captain. They conferred for a time. When they were done, we were called to assembly, and the captain spoke to us.

"We have come none too soon," he told the troops. "The King has two companies to the west that have been under attack for the past ten days. They have fortified their position near the top of a hill. They've killed many orcs, but they don't have the manpower needed to destroy them altogether. His hope is that we will be able to come up behind the enemy and trap them between our two forces. Now," he continued, "there are other orcs out there, but we don't know their position. Our scouts believe that a troop of reinforcements may be coming from the southeast, but they probably won't arrive for another day or two, which should give us just time enough to clean up this problem before the next one presents itself. If we leave this morning, we should be in position by late tomorrow afternoon. We're heading for Maedor Hill. It's the highest point for miles, so be ready to do some climbing. We've got several paths of ropes to help us get in position. We'll break up into three groups. Broneithel, you take one, Malenech the second, and Celiring the third. Our signal is the call of the whippoorwill. He pointed to two warriors near the back of the crowd. "Himorthad and Cambellas you'll take posts for the milui-cross. Ollin, you're with me."

"What about the elflings?" asked Cambellas, pointing to where we were standing.

The captain glanced at Malenech and raised his eyebrows.

Malench thought for a moment and then said, "This mission is too dangerous for the new recruits. Legolas, you'll keep your group here until you get word. We need to get you to your companies, but now is not a good time. We are well within our territory here. You'll be safe enough."

I could hear Doron swear quietly behind me as I bowed my acquiescence to Malenech's command.

In very little time, the company had broken camp and was standing in formation. We stood watching as the warriors began crossing the bridge.

The meadow seemed quiet and large after the company had departed. Provisions had been left for us, so there was no need go hunting. I knew that idle hands would not keep spirits high, so I had my group reinforce the fire pit and build a simple shelter to protect us from the rain that continued to threaten. By suppertime, those tasks were done. Ereglin was volunteered to cook. He grumbled a bit as always, but we all agreed that he was the most capable among us for the task. We started playing hrithca while we waited, and wound up telling stories and playing late into the night. So long as I kept my attention with the recruits, I could almost forget the great darkness that shrouded the forest nearby.

I set watch assigning Doron, Talfil and Brethilas to take turns. I knew it wasn't necessary, but I thought the protocol would be good for what lay ahead. We slept that night as well as could be expected, and spent an uneventful morning tidying up the camp and talking of small things. After lunch, I declared an archery contest. We took our bows back into the woods and practiced shooting random targets amidst the trees. Ereglin was quite proficient at this type of shooting, although I often bested him on the more distant marks. Neither one of us could match Talfil, who had become a formidable shot. He could easily hit a leaf at twenty paces.

"Careful, Talfil. If you get much better, they will tap you for the milui-cross."

"Mind your tongue, Legolas," he responded, "You're not so bad yourself."

When Ereglin woke me for watch the next night, it took me a few moments to remember where I was. The cloud cover, which had stayed with us for two days, had finally lifted and the stars were shining brilliantly. I grabbed my bow and spent the next few hours walking the perimeter of the camp. As the darkness gave way to the grayness of the pre dawn, I thought I saw movement across the river. I peered into the gloom, thinking that perhaps it was a pack of some sort of animal. There were at least a dozen of them, about a hundred paces north of the bridge.

I ducked into the shelter and found Talfil's bedroll. "Talfil!" I hissed, touching his shoulder. He woke at once and scrambled to his feet. I took him outside and pointed through the dimness at the opposite bank. "What do you make of that movement over there? What kind of animal is that?"

He gazed for a long moment at where I was pointing. "I could be wrong, Legolas, but I think that may be orcs. Look, they are moving like men, but they are smaller than our own troops would be."

"They aren't supposed to be in this part of the woods! Get the others up." I went to the fire and covered the glowing embers with ash. I didn't want the light to give us away.

Ereglin, Doron, and Brethilas were up in a moment. "It _is_ orcs!" whispered Doron after peering into the darkness. "Let's go get them!" He went to retrieve his bow.

"Slow down Gaervornion," I said, putting out my hand to stop him. "We've got orders to sit tight."

But Doron wasn't mollified. "We can't just sit here. If they find the bridge they'll have crossed the river and the King will have a whole new set of problems to worry about."

"They don't know where the bridge is yet," offered Talfil.

"And I say we don't want them finding out," said Doron defiantly.

I carefully weighed what they said. I knew how important it was to follow orders, but I also knew that the captain had no idea that orcs were in the area. Doron's point was well taken. We could ill afford having orcs crossing the river.

"Give me some time to think," I said. An idea was forming in my mind. "Brethilas and Doron, try and surmise how many orcs there are. We can't take down a whole company. Talfil, I want you to see if you can spy any ropes across the river. It would be a useless effort if we can't stay in the trees. Ereglin, you go up to the ridge and see if there are ropes there. If we can hold out here, I think it would be best."

My little company dispersed to its tasks and I rubbed my face with my hand. This was what we had trained for. I just had to make the right decisions.

Brethilas and Doron were the first to respond. Brethilas nodded, then said, "There aren't too many orcs over there, say twenty or twenty five. They seem to be hunting or gathering food. They won't catch anything with the noise they're making. We could hear them from where we stood!"

"There are ropes across the river," said Talfil, coming to join us. "They start in that copse of pines about twenty paces from the bridge. I don't know where they go, but at least we'd be protected if we stayed in the trees."

We waited silently until Ereglin returned. "No ropes at all up there," he said. "We could defend the ridge, but there isn't any good place to take a stand or even hide. What should we do?"

"We could cut the bridge from this side," offered Talfil.

"It wouldn't work," said Doron. "When they found the bridge moored on their side, they'd know that this is a strategic place for our troops. The place would be crawling with orcs in no time."

"It sounds like you're angling to go across," I said.

"Why not?" he grinned. "I aim to shoot me some orc, the sooner the better!"

I considered the options for a moment, then made up my mind. "We'll go across," I said finally, but on one condition."

"What's that?" asked Talfil.

"You must accept my command. Until today I've led you as a friend, but Malenech charged me with your safety and to do that I need to make sure that you will obey my orders." I looked at Doron, "That means that you are not to attack until I give the order."

"Sure," said Ereglin. Brethilas and Talfil nodded.

Doron glared at me. "If you don't trust me, just say so," he said.

"I need your word, Doron."

He sighed deeply. "You've got it. But you said, until you gave the order. Do you plan to attack?"

"Brethilas, you've said that the group is small, only twenty or twenty five. If we can kill all of them, there will be no way for word to get back about the bridge. We'll need to surround them without being heard. If we can do that, and that's a very real if, Doron, I'll give the signal for attack. If the ropes don't properly cover the area then we'll retreat to the pines and hold our position until the orcs leave of their own volition. That's the plan. Leave your supply packs here and take every arrow you have with you. You're going to need them. And Talfil? You'll serve the milui-cross." I looked at my companions. Talfil's eyes were wide, there was a grim expression on Ereglin's face and Brethilas looked somber.

Only Doron seemed excited at the prospect. His eyes were bright and he grinned at me. "Let's do it!" he cried.


	42. Chapter 43

Silently, my company gathered on the banks of the roaring river. Like a spider's thread, the slender ropes forming our bridge glistened in the moonlight, disappearing completely in the shadows of the trees on the other side. That was our tenuous road towards the orcs. I checked my companions' gear. Swords were buckled in place, quivers slung, and bows in hand. I should have complimented them for how quickly they had readied themselves, but I was too keyed up for words.

"Legolas?" Brethilas' voice broke the silence.

"What is it?"

"It's these boots. If we're going to be running the ropes, I'd feel a lot more secure barefoot."

I was tempted to remind him of the rules, but it occurred to me that I was asking him to risk his life in the next few hours. I needed him to feel as comfortable as possible. "Take them off," I said after a moment, "and that goes for the rest of you. You need to be able to walk the ropes safely. Do what you think is best."

In the end, Doron was the only one who left his boots on. As I stepped onto the bridge for the second time, I knew that the decision was the right one. The camraph was smooth and firm under my feet. I felt a lot more confident.

After crossing the river, we passed through a clearing before reaching the grove of pines that held the ropes. Wasting no time, we climbed them quickly and set out for our destination. As we transversed the canopy, I became aware of the darkness, a taint in the air that rested heavily against my soul. There was no avoiding it. It was in the very air that we breathed.

There was a smell that grew fouler as we approached our enemies. It was a sickly sweet odor of urine and decay that clung to my nostrils. I breathed in and out quickly to try and dispel it, but to no avail. When I was sure that everyone was with me, I gave the signal to surround the orcs. My companions disappeared into the canopy.

In my mind's eye, I had envisioned the orcs clustered neatly in a clearing where we could pluck them off one at a time. But, as I took my position, I could see that they were dispersed throughout the trees, and there were many more of them than we had anticipated. They were easy to locate since they were speaking with one another in a harsh, guttural language. They moved awkwardly, sometimes stiffly, as though in great discomfort. All of them were digging, using wide knives and occasionally their hands, ripping up roots and frantically eating them raw as though they were ravenous. Indeed, their scrawny limbs and lean torsos indicated starvation.

How long we watched I cannot say. There were too many enemies for our small group to engage. We would need to retreat to the pines and wait for them to move on.

I was ready to signal retreat when, just beneath my feet, two orcs started arguing over something they had found. Knives were drawn from their scabbards. The howling and cursing in that guttural language grated in my ears. As they grappled with each other, the root fell unnoticed to the ground. A large orc stabbed the smaller orc in the chest. The creature howled and fell to its knees. In its final death throes, it threw its head back, looked up and stared into my eyes.

"Golug!" it screamed, falling to the ground.

The other orc grabbed up the root and gazed into the trees. Frantically, I tried to hide behind the trunk, but it was no use. "Golug-dug!" he cried, pointing at me.

Swiftly, I nocked an arrow, aimed, and released. The arrow pierced the creature's armor, but did not bring it down. "Retreat!" I yelled, "To the bridge!"

But it was too late. A full score of orcs snatched up their weapons and began scanning the trees, looking for targets. "Shoot at will!" I shouted. I grabbed another arrow from my quiver and aimed at a stocky orc wielding a crude bow and arrow. This time my shot was true and the creature fell writhing on the ground. Arrows flew from the other trees nearby.

One of Talfil's yellow fletched arrows protruded from the back of an orc, and another of Ereglin's skimmed roughly into the dirt. Brethilas shot three arrows; two found their destination. I shot one more that went wide. Even as I was nocking a fourth arrow, I was wondering where Doron had gone. . He had been the most eager to hunt orc, and yet I saw none of his arrows below.

Searching the canopy, I finally caught sight of him off to my left in a tree some twenty paces away, heading deeper into the woods. He perched on a low rope in full view of the orcs.

"I'm here!" he cried, "Catch me if you can!"

In unison, the orcs turned and surged forward, but Doron was quick, and disappeared into the trees. We were able to bring down a few more of the orcs pursuing Doron, but hunting orc was far more difficult than I had anticipated. Much to my dismay, they often moved to quickly for a fatal shot, and many of those we had shot were not mortally injured. They savagely pulled out the arrows and rolled to their feet to join the pursuit.

As soon as Doron led the orcs away, I saw the other three elves moving through the trees. "Head for the bridge!" I commanded, "I'll see to Doron."

I did not wait to see them go, but cast myself into the canopy to find him.

My patrol headed off to the east. I heard their movement only as a breath in the air. The woods immediately around me were still and silent, as though waiting. I peered about anxiously, straining to find Doron's presence in the voice of the woods. Then, finally, in the distance, I heard the sound of his laughter echoing lightly from the direction of the bridge. He must have eluded the orcs, He was safe!

As I climbed onto a _camraph_ to set my own course for the bridge, the harsh sound of orcs trampling through the undergrowth assaulted my ears. I leaned back against the trunk of the tree as a group of some thirty of them passed below me, heading for the sound of Doron's laughter.

Swiftly, I ran through the canopy, shadowing the path of the orcs. My companions were well ahead of me, also running the corridors of the trees, but they would have to come down to cross the bridge. The orcs did not alter their course. They stampeded through the forest, breaking low branches and stomping the tender plants as they went.

The bridge was getting closer. The stench of the orcs wafted up to me. I was gaining on them, but it looked like they were also getting too close to my patrol. I nocked an arrow and aimed for a creature in the midst of the pack. The second arrow wounded one of the leaders, and the third took down one near the rear. The group slowed and began searching the canopy for the source of the arrows. I danced lightly along a branch and leapt to a nearby tree. By the time the orcs had drawn their bows, I was safely in the arms of a massive oak. I guarded myself behind the tree trunk and let fly two more arrows. I did not wait to see if they found their mark, but moved again to a new tree. If I could convince them that a full patrol was attacking them, then perhaps my friends would have enough time to get to safety.

The only drawback to my plan was that I had no way to secure my own escape. I continued shooting until my store of arrows was almost depleted. With a loud cry, I claimed their attention. I loosed a single arrow into the mass of vile bodies, then scampered along the hidden trails of the trees towards the bridge.

My cry spurred the orcs into action. Their leader growled orders as I passed over them unseen, hoping they would go deeper into the forest, but that was not to be. They turned as a unit and, once again, began crashing their way to the bridge.

Racing along the slim limbs of the trees, I could see the ropes of the bridge ahead, swaying vigorously, indicating that my men had made it across. I broke from the canopy in time to see Ereglin and Brethilas reach the far side. Doron and Talfil were close behind them. Swiftly, I dropped from the trees and began the short transverse to the edge of the river.

A sharp sound behind me confirmed that I was being pursued. I turned to see an orc fitting an arrow to his string and then suddenly I was knocked to the ground with a force like a hammer blow. I couldn't breathe for a moment. I looked down and saw an arrow protruding from my side.

The oncoming orcs were close enough for me to feel their footsteps through the ground. I struggled to rise. There was no time to remove the arrow. I had to get across the bridge. I scrambled as swiftly as I could towards my destination, but the wound sent waves of pain through my body. The bridge hung long and empty in front of me. I was inches from the ropes when a second arrow sliced the air by my head. The orcs broke from the cover of the woods, blinking in the brightness of the early morning sun. There was no time for me to cross the bridge with them so close on my heels. I had to keep my comrades safe. I pulled my sword from its sheath and with three decisive strokes, sundered the bridge from its moorings.

I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing that things had gone differently. Then, determined to fell as many of the brutes as possible before I died, I brandished my sword.

The orcs ringed me in a semi-circle. The smell of sweat and excrement was almost overwhelming. My wound throbbed mercilessly and I could feel my heart pounding. A wave of nausea rolled through my body. I crumpled to the ground. Had the arrow been poisoned?

I tried to pull myself up, but my legs refused to obey. My sword clattered as it fell. Three orcs drew closer and began kicking my back and shoulders. One of them leaned down and yanked the arrow ruthlessly from my side. I cried out in pain, retching and vomiting. Dimly, I heard the grunts of several orcs as they hit the ground, arrows protruding from their bodies. I knew then that my companions were within range, watching my back from across the valley. As rough hands dragged me bleeding towards the woods, every story I'd ever heard about orcs' inventive and hideous tortures flashed through my mind. I prayed that Talfil would find the strength to send an arrow through my heart.


	43. Chapter 44

I woke up gagging. The orcs were trying to force some vile liquid down my throat. My shirt was soaked with it. Weakly, I fought them, spewing and sputtering, but they held my head and jabbed me in my wounded side until I complied. The tonic was pungent and tasted of iron. I thought it might be poison. My muscles tightened. A craving for something intense yet undefined gripped me. My senses heightened, and I grew angry and distraught.

The orcs bound my wrists and ankles and then set a sentry to watch me. With a final round of kicks and blows, the orcs left me so that they could sleep. I tried to stretch, but my muscles were sluggish and I still felt nauseated. In spite of the fact that I had downed a goodly quantity of their brew, I was very thirsty and wished for water.

Sighing deeply, I gazed at my surroundings. The light was dim nearby, but I could see slender tree tops framed by the opening of the cave that I was in. The cave must've been set high on the wall of a ravine. The walls were smooth, and the ceiling was a large shelf of limestone that loomed over the floor of the cavern. It was not an ample space for the orcs, but it was enough to shelter them from the light as they slept through the day. My eyes were drawn to the trees again. Feeble shoots of green growth appeared vibrant in the midday light. I shuddered to think how they might fare if we could not dislodge the darkness from this part of the valley.

As the minutes drew into hours, the wound in my side began to throb. I closed my eyes to try and envision the arrow as it was removed. I had no idea whether or not they had taken out the whole thing. I could not move without sparking more pain.  
Eventually, my thoughts began to wander. Chills set in and I wondered again if the tonic had been medicine or a poison . My vision grew blurred and I found it hard to breathe. At one point I groaned out loud. My guard, who had been sleeping beside me, peered into my face and called to his companions. One of them untied me, stripped off my tunic, and rough fingers poked and prodded the wound until I cried out in pain. Then they pressed me to drink more of the vile potion. I complied quickly, hoping to avoid more trauma to my wound. My hands were bound again and I lay down, too weak to sit.

My nausea did not abate through the early evening, and I nearly vomited when several orcs dragged the body of a small doe onto the outer lip of the cave. They did not take time to butcher or cook the food, but merely fell on the carcass with knives and teeth until nothing was left, save innards and bones. The remains were unceremoniously dumped off the threshold of the cave into the ravine below.

The day was drawing to a close and I found myself alternately tensing with anxiety and feeling too sick to care. As the last remnants of light left the sky, the orcs began to leave the cave in groups of two or three. There was a good deal of guttural talking, and many of the foul creatures leered at me, laughing darkly.

I was almost alone in the cave when four of the creatures unceremoniously hoisted me to their shoulders and carried me down into the ravine. As we descended, I could smell the odor of a large bonfire. The wood they used was green, torn from living trees, and it smoked horribly. I shuddered as we reached the clearing where the orcs awaited my arrival. They were standing around a tree that had been stripped of its branches to a point about ten feet off the ground. With trepidation, I saw that most of the creatures held knives and cudgels. One particularly burly orc held a gnarled branch the length of my arm. He swung it fiercely side to side, laughing a great gurgling laugh. I bit my lips firmly, stifling a moan. I would not give them the satisfaction of knowing my fear.

The orcs opened the circle to admit me. I was set on my feet. My four captors stood back. After a moment, a small orc came forth to unbind me. He was much shorter than the rest and walked with a limp. Matted black hair hung to his shoulders. His hands were dark and gnarled at the joints. It took him a few minutes to untie the bonds. The other orcs growled and shouted their impatience while he worked. As I looked at the tree, it occurred to me that they had denuded it to give me false hope. If I could reach the lowest branch I might gain my freedom, but to do so I would have to leap nearly twice my height. Such a leap would not be impossible if I were in full health, but wounded and poisoned as I was, it was no more than a cruel jest to add to my agony. Nevertheless, I made my way towards the tree. At the very least, perhaps we could offer one another comfort before the end.

There was not a sound as I shuffled forward. They were poised, waiting for a signal to begin their grim task. I began to breathe heavily as I walked. Drops of sweat dripped from my brow and ran down my back. The tree grew closer and my steps slowed. Somehow I knew that when I reached the tree, the pain would begin. The poison sent a strong tremor through my body and my knees grew weak. I could envision the leap in my mind. It would be so graceful and well executed. At the same time my legs felt heavy and wooden.

The creature with the branch grew restless and approached me, swinging it in a heavy arc. As he drew closer, I felt tears forming in my eyes. I wanted so much to be in that tree, to be beyond and done with what was about to come. I chided myself for being so weak-willed. I was Laegrim. I was of the Song. I paused. Taking a deep breath, I set my shoulders back and began singing. It was simply a child's song of power and balance. Determined to face my fate with courage, I sang as loudly and as sweetly as I could. The notes floated clear and strong into the night sky. There were a precious few moments of stillness while the orcs stood in astonishment, balanced between anger and fear. Then I could smell the rage pouring forth, and they stormed, weapons raised, into the middle of the circle. They were upon me.

I will not relate what happened that night. Some memories are best left untouched. By the time dawn made its rosy appearance, I had long since lost consciousness, save for the pain. I dimly remember being hoisted onto the shoulders of several of the creatures to be taken back to the cave.

When I finally roused, it was to the light of late afternoon. The tree tops glowed green in the sunlight. As I lay waking, I became aware of a presence beside me. It was the small orc who had unbound me in the clearing. It was squatting near my side, rocking and whimpering to itself. After a moment, it paused, motionless. Tentatively, his gnarled, slender hand reached out and very slowly touched a thick strand of my hair. I dared not move. It gently stroked my hair for a moment, then reached to its own head, grasping the dark matted tresses there. I watched the little creature as it rocked itself, snuffling softly. Where had that tentative touch come from? What had moved him to whimper? I took in my breath to speak to him and his eyes snapped open. I found myself gazing into two dark eyes that brimmed with fear and pain and hunger. So profoundly distraught was his affect that my heart was stirred within me. My training as tauron compelled me to empathize with the orc, to feel its pain and to seek its comfort. Without hesitation, I began to listen.

Darkness flowed through the orc like a mighty river, spilling through his heart, saturating his bones, immersing his sinews. Filled to the brim, like a cup overflowing, the darkness swirled and churned at a constant frenzied tempo. Frantically, I held on to my strength, held on to the song. Cool waters, clear days, brilliant stars. The darkness pounded on, turned towards me, overwhelming my senses. I could feel it stretching, seeking, reaching for me.

But darkness was not all there was to listen to. Deep inside, almost beyond my awareness, I felt a gentle breath; a weak, dim, flicker of light. Within the heart of this deformed creature there was a spirit, a spirit in constant, writhing agony, in pain beyond help, beyond healing, beyond hope. I could offer no peace without sacrificing myself to the darkness. Ashamed of my limitations, I withdrew.

Suddenly, a low growl came from across the cave. The orc stood, startled, looking toward the sound. He grunted, then kicked me in the side. When I did not respond, he roughly checked my bonds and then settled down to keep watch. He did not look at me again.

I vividly remember the events of that evening. Before dragging me to the clearing, three sturdy orcs forced me to drink a great quantity of the noxious brew. I drank until they could not force me to drink any more. The effect was overwhelming. My muscles were tense to the point of shaking. The light was uncomfortably bright; the shadows became darker and more menacing. I was enraged. It took six orcs to manage me down to the clearing where they grappled with me, forcing me to my knees. I glared at my captors, cursing and shouting wildly. Suddenly, from somewhere behind the gathered orcs, I thought I heard a deep rumbling, like a cavern collapsing. This was followed by a rustling and the sound of a tempest in the air like wind in a storm. The trees should have been moving, thrashed by the wind, but they were still. I shook my head to dispel the sensation. The rumbling just grew louder and louder until it was deafening. Then, from deep in the wood a great darkness appeared to be flowing, rolling like thick water past the orcs and across the ground. I knew it could not be so, but it seemed so real. The darkness advanced until it covered my legs, flowing around them deeper and deeper, until it was chest high. The stench of decay was overwhelming and I gagged. I strained frantically at my bonds, but the orcs seemed indifferent to my distress. The murky darkness never stopped churning, but flowed upward, over my shoulders, up to my neck. I tilted my head back, gasping for air, but still it came on until I was immersed. It consumed my screams and slid into my mind and my heart and my body. I was terrified. The darkness gnawed at my insides, tearing through me without abating. I writhed in pain. Dimly, I saw the orcs coming towards me, slowly, almost as floating, their weapons raised. I fought frantically to free myself, but to no avail. There was no release! There was no hope! My body shuddered. With one final convulsion I was overcome, and knew no more.


	44. Chapter 45

_Thanks to Elfscribe the amazing beta. See if this chapter works for you._

There were hands, many of them holding me down, pushing my shoulders, pressing against my head, grasping my legs. Too many of them. I had to get up. I had to run. I had to leap into the tree. Where was it? And I hurt so. The pain crescendoed in waves. My side, my head! Why were they holding my arms? To drink, they wanted me to drink. Ai, how I struggled to avoid the cup! Their voices swirled in eddies around me, strident, pushing the cup to my lips. I turned my head and felt the liquid spill down my chest.

"Legolas," I heard, spoken amidst the murmurs. My name! How did they know my name?

"Legolas!"

A scream of anguish was wrenched from the very core of my body. How could they know my name? I grit my teeth and tried to subdue the sobs of fear and frustration that worked their way up from my heart.

Soft fingers cupped my chin. "Easy there, Legolas. Be at peace." A smell of apples and warm soil. Of home. A kiss on my forehead. Brethilas. The world spun into rightness and I opened my eyes.

Brethilas was there, his grey eyes warm with compassion. Behind him, was Ereglin, holding my legs, a look of hopeful concern on his face.

Talfil met my gaze, then looked away, his eyes watering. He held the cup in his hands. Doron slowly released my wrists.

I closed my eyes to steady myself. The woods had a clean piney scent. Beneath me, I could feel the dried pine needles that they must have scooped together from the forest floor and covered with a thick blanket to make my pallet. When I opened my eyes again, I saw the tall trees that encircled us. The woods were safe; I could hear the murmuring of the small animals and the chirping of the birds as they went about their many tasks. We were in the meadow on the safe side of the river. It was mystifying how I'd arrived. I breathed in the smell like a tonic.

Slowly, I licked my lips and turned my attention to my friends. "You rescued me?" It came out as a whisper. I tried again. "You rescued me?" Doron and Ereglin nodded. "Sweet Eru!" I exclaimed gruffly, "don't you know the protocol?" Talfil looked stunned. Brethilas' mouth widened into a smile and then he began to chuckle. "Ah, Legolas," he said at last, "You know us better than that." Finally the tension broke, and my companions touched my hands and laughed gently to welcome me home.

I heard someone approaching. Startled, I looked up to see Cambellas.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, sitting up to greet him. My head spun.

Cambellas grinned, and eased down to the ground so that I could see him better. "You might as well ask what my company is doing here. We've been busy, as of late, rescuing young princes who've put themselves into danger. Not the brightest thing, you five did, although from what Doron says it was all well intentioned. Captain will have your hides for not following orders, but only if Malenech doesn't get to you first."

"I'll take full responsibility for that decision," I said, shifting uncomfortably, "I was in command."

"Take it easy, Legolas," said Cambellas, the smile leaving his face. "I'm just giving you a hard time. These fellows did a great job of defending your decision to the captain. Your group did well for the first time out, save for one glaring exception."

"We hardly killed any orcs," I protested, "I shot off my whole quiver, and I think I only killed two or three."

"This isn't target practice. It often takes more than one shot to bring an orc down. You'll find that orcs move erratically. It's hard to aim. Even then, they're often wearing armor that does you no favors if you're shooting from a distance."

I closed my eyes and savored the sensation of sunlight warming my body. I was suddenly very weary. I never thought that I would survive.

"How did you do it?" I asked at length, "How did you find me?"

"Well, when we reached the King's forces, we set to business right away. It was a fierce battle, but we outmaneuvered the orcs. After that, we decided to go for that group of reinforcements the orcs were expecting. The only problem was, they had veered off course. We wouldn't have known where they were, except that we captured a couple of their scouts searching for the larger group. Of course, they wouldn't tell us anything, but our company was able to follow their tracks back this way.

"Malenech nearly had a fit when he realized where the orcs had gathered. It was evening when we got to this area. Our men knew that the orcs had captured someone when they heard them clamoring near the ravine. About the only thing that could keep a group of orcs in one place for awhile is when they've got someone captive. At first the captain wanted Himorthad to serve the milui criss, but Malenech wouldn't hear of it. Captain and Malenech had some choice words! There was lots of murmuring in the ranks over who would make the decision. Finally, the captain gave in and sent our best archers to surround the enemy. The scum were so focused on what they were doing to you, most of them never knew we were there. A big fellow with a thick branch was standing over you. He knew what was happening; I could see it in his face. He raised his cudgel, aiming to bring it down on your head. A moment later three arrows were sticking from his back. We had to drag his body off of yours to get to you," he paused and shrugged apologetically. "We didn't know it was you until that moment."

Talfil was sitting beside me. He put a hand on my arm. "You were unconscious for a full day," he said. "As soon as the healers were done with you, we were at your side."

"And they've been there ever since," said Cambellas. "The healer left some tonic for you to drink. They were supposed to get it into you as soon as it looked like you were waking up."

"Well, I'm awake now," I said. "Though it took all four of you to get me to drink it."

"Maybe you'd be more willing now?" Talfil offered me the cup.  
I looked at the contents suspiciously.

"You'll want to chase that with some _miruvor_," said Cambellas, rising. "I've got some in my pack."

After he departed, I sipped at the drink. It was bitter, but nowhere near as bad as the orc poison. I held my breath and drank deeply. I should have waited for Cambellas to return. "That is vile!" I exclaimed when I'd finished. "What is it supposed to do?"

"It neutralizes the poison in your wound," explained Talfil. "Look, here is Cambellas now."

Gratefully, I took the small cup of _miruvor_ that he offered. I had heard of the drink, but never tried it before. It went down smooth and silky, like a cool stream on a summer's day. I found myself suffused with a warm contentment, and a wash of pleasure moved through my body. I breathed deeply, feeling elated and very relaxed. "Thank you," I gasped, handing Cambellas the cup. I eased down until I was lying on my back. "I think I'll sleep now."

Cambellas laughed. "That's good stuff, isn't it?" Maybe we can beat your friends off you now so that you can sleep."

In the end, Brethilas stayed nearby and the others left. I was so drowsy that I barely felt him holding my hand as I drifted off.

Black. Darkness pounding, swirling, churning. Filled to the brim and too full with darkness. It will burst from my body and I will die. Darkness, gnawing at my insides, devouring my heart, devouring my mind, devouring my very soul. Trapped. No way to make it leave, no way to run, no way to escape. I can't think! I can't breathe! I'm overcome, overwhelmed. It has me! Fierce talons of darkness pierce my soul and pull it into pieces. I'm being devoured and I can't even scream.

I open my eyes and the stars shine brittle and distant. Someone looms nearby. A dark figure. Coming to take me! Coming to hurt me! Coming to kill me! I try to scream, but it's only a whimper. I reach for something to beat him off, but my hands grasp nothing.  
Breathing deeply and rapidly, my body convulses. Terror grips my soul. It cannot come! It cannot come! The darkness is too big, too strong, too wild. It will tear me and break me until there is nothing left!

There is no one to help me. No one to come. I am breaking, breaking, and, oh, I am so alone.

One note.

Clear and crystal, it hangs suspended in the darkness. One note, precious as light. Where did it go? I must find it again. One note. For that solitary sound I can hold to hope, scramble through the darkness that slips like a mudslide through my soul. Where did it go?

I hear it again, but not with my ears. My ears are filled with terror, filled with churning, burning depths of dark misery. But where is it?

There it is, joined by another! Two notes I can almost touch, almost feel, almost grasp.

I am falling rapidly into the darkness, into the misery. My tattered soul has no reprieve. I am caught by music, a finely latticed net. It captures me and holds me as the darkness washes by. Where is it coming from? I must find it, but oh, the darkness weighs heavily, beating me down.

I reach the surface, gasping for air, gasping for light, gasping for sanity. Brethilas is there.

A gruff voice. "No singing, Brethilas. You know the rules."

"Rules be damned," he says. "I'm singing the Deep Song. Legolas needs to hear it."

Sing, Brethilas. I cannot speak to you now, but I need you to sing. Sing for me the Deep Song. Help me, hold me. The darkness wants me. It will eat me alive!

Nothing. There is no light, but the buffeting and roiling current has stopped. I gasp for breath. It's stopped. I feel the music, two strong hands pushing, pushing the dead weight of the darkness away. So heavy, so hard. Twisting, turning, seeking a grip. Pushing, pushing. The darkness is strong. It claims me, it claims me!

Tension thrums like a bow string pulled to the breaking point. The darkness is too heavy to move. Something will snap. The music will vanish, leaving me to the darkness, to be devoured by the angry appetite of the depths. Despair looms. The tension grows tighter and tighter.

But the music continues. Not much. A clear, thin strand of light. Music is light is music. I must go there. I must find the light. I dare not fail. I will not fall!

Like a dam bursting, I break free of the darkness. It rolls from me like black smoke. I am empty and breathless. I open my eyes.

Brethilas is there. I am not alone. Even in the starlight, I can see that he has been crying. I try to reach out with a hand, but I'm too weak to move. "Brethilas…"

"I'm here," he sobs, and rests his head on my chest. In a moment, he is up again. "I never knew about the darkness. It was so frightening."

"It has lifted." I assure him. "Thank you for singing Istuilalf's song."

We weep together for a time.

Brethilas sings a new song to me, then. He gently rubs my face and kisses me on the brow. The song that he sings is a song of healing. It was my favorite song to hear from Naneth when I was young. My breathing slows. I smell the pines, I feel the ground secure beneath me. The darkness is gone. I am content.

When I woke the next morning, I found myself troubled by thoughts of the small orc. He had borne the darkness bravely, but had he lived, he would have succumbed to it eventually. There was no hope for the orcs. They were all doomed to the darkness that I had so narrowly evaded. It should not have mattered; he must be dead now, gone with the other orcs who had been slain.

But his spirit had been there!

The morning was long. The healers came and tended my wounds. Although they were gentle, it still hurt. The wound in my side had become inflamed. Even the draught from the night before was not sufficient to draw out the infection. They laid heavy poultices upon it and made me drink more of the healing brew.

I could not get the image of the young orc from my mind. He had been helpless in the face of the darkness. There truly was no hope for him.

After lunch, my friends gathered around me and we talked of small things. The company was planning to stay in the area until the King arrived. _Ai,_ I would not want to be the messenger to deliver the news to my father about my fate! But someone had undertaken the task, and he was coming with haste. Other captains were coming, too. The meadow would serve as meeting place to review activity in the area.

During the afternoon, I did not move far from my pallet. I found that I was weak and tired easily. The sun travelled a lazy arc towards the horizon. I woke and slept and woke again.

That evening I reclined, resting my back against my pack. Through the trees I glimpsed Talfil and Doron sitting by the fire. The light from the flame played across their faces. Cambellas was entertaining them with some funny story and they were laughing. Talfil glanced my way and caught my eye. He stood up and came over.

"Are you warm enough, Legolas?"

I nodded. "I'm fine."

"You're welcome to come closer to the fire. I could help you."

I shook my head. "Go back to your stories. I'll be fine."

"I'd rather sit here with you." He folded his legs and sat cross-legged beside me. We sat in silence for a time, watching the fire, watching the trees, watching the silver moon that hung round and full in the eastern sky.

At last, I turned to him and sighed. "There is so much about these past days that I would like to forget, but something happened to me in the orcs' cave that has stayed with me."

"What was that?"

I paused for a moment, unsure as to how to begin. "There was a small orc there, a youth, perhaps, and at one point, he reached out and touched my hair. It was almost as though he was drawn to it. I tried to speak with him then, and that's when I caught his gaze. He was in such pain, Talfil, and there was so much fear! You know that I'm a_ tauron_, even before being a warrior. I felt compelled to listen."

Talfil drew back. "You listened to an orc? No wonder you were so filled with darkness."

"No, it wasn't like that. The darkness came later." I shifted so that I was looking directly at him. "I was able to evade the darkness then, but you have to know that beneath the darkness, I found the faintest glow, almost an echo. It was a spirit, the spirit of the orc, tattered and broken, but it was there."

"Orcs have spirits? But we've been told otherwise."

I shook my head. "I can't forget that spirit's suffering, Talfil, try as I might. The darkness and agony were so tangible and strong. The spirit was like a whisper, a faint shimmering, twisted and tortured beyond reason or hope." I paused, searching for the right words. Then I remembered something. "Once, when I was young, I came across a weasel caught in a trap. Istuilalf was with me. The poor creature was in such pain. There was no way to restore it to health. Istuilalf killed it to release its spirit to the woods. He said it was all that we could do. This young orc was like that."

"I am sorry, Legolas."

"Well, I've thought a lot about it. What happens if death is really a gift to the orcs, a release from the bondage that they've been in since the day that they were born? This little one was in such anguish and pain."

"The orcs aren't evil, then?" I couldn't tell if he was humoring me, but I had his attention.

"No, and we've been told as much. They are the puppets of the darkness. Their desires have been corrupted by the darkness, and by the poison that they drink. They think that by inflicting pain they can win themselves some comfort; their perceptions are distorted. No, I'm convinced that the small orc had a spirit hungering for release."

"How do you know all this?"

"I've been under the shadow," I reminded him, "and I drank their brew. It is a harsh bondage that the orcs must suffer. I would not wish it on any creature."

"You sound like you want to befriend them, Legolas. Be realistic! Whether they have spirits or no, they would just as soon gut you or tear out your heart. You think there is some way to heal all the minions of the enemy?"

"We can't heal them, Talfil, but we can set them free." I leaned forward. "When we were fighting, how many arrows did you shoot?"

"Nearly a dozen."

"And how many orcs did you kill?"

"Eh, Legolas. It wasn't easy," he shrugged. "I wounded a half dozen. I killed at least three of them."

"And you're the best shot among us! Now answer me this. If you had a dozen arrows and went hunting, how many animals would you kill?"

"Well, a dozen I suppose. You don't shoot when hunting unless you've listened first." Talfil's eyes grew wide as he realized where the conversation was headed. "Now wait a minute! First you are making friends with the orcs and now you are saying we need to listen to them? Legolas, you've gone too far. Your experience has addled your mind!"

"Bear with me, please!" I begged. "For the past ten months we have heard how important it is not to listen, to be angry and fight, but the more I think about it, the more I think that listening is the key. Yes, there was darkness flowing through the heart of that young orc, but nothing that I could not set aside. All you need to envision when hunting is a glimpse of the animal's spirit. Why not use that skill to free the spirits of the orcs?" I leaned forward emphatically. "Talfil, I know I am right about this. Fighting with anger is so hard for us to do. You and I are not angry people. We need to fight by listening. I know that it's a better way."

Talfil shook his head and rested a warm hand on my shoulder. "I hear your words, Legolas, but look, you are trembling from the exertion of talking with me. First and foremost, you need to rest and recover. Then you can hope that your father will not send you straight back to the keep. Your ideas make sense to me, but you and I both have had a lot of training in listening. I don't think your idea will go well with the King, and I know that the captains would shut you down if they heard you talking like this. Let me think about your words; I promise I will. If your idea is sound, we will present it, but now is not the time."

"You think I am still affected by the darkness, don't you?" I said, vexed.

Talfil ran his hand through his hair. "I honestly don't know what to think. Your ideas are so farfetched. They may be the aftermath of the darkness, or they may have merit. I'm not the one to decide. All I ask is that you give yourself some time. After you've rested, then see if this all still makes sense. Can you at least see the wisdom of that?"

I could feel my energies flagging even as he spoke. I reached out and grabbed Talfil by the arm. "Listen, Talfil! I know that I need to be up and healthy by the time my father arrives. If these thoughts do have merit, it is worth something to share them with you first. I can't afford to sound like someone clouded by the darkness."

Talfil put his hand over mine. "And I honor that, Legolas, but you don't look well. Can you set it aside for now?" His eyes reflected his concern. "You need to rest. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You could sing with me," I retorted. I was tired and frustrated. If Talfil wouldn't listen to me, then who would?

"And risk Malenech's wrath? I think not, but come, I will stay with you until you sleep."

I lay down, too exhausted to protest. I wanted to hang on to my anger, but I found that I was too weary to care. I could hear the cadence of conversation of those sitting by the fire. The smell of pines was strong and comforting. The stars shone brilliantly overhead. I sighed. I was disappointed, and yet grateful for Talfil's presence as I drifted off. My thoughts were marred by echoes of darkness and the anguished spirit of a very young orc. 


	45. Chapter 46

I was lying on my stomach, back bared to the healers who were treating my wounds. My hair hung in my eyes, unbound and unwashed. When I tried to push it away, Erlamore, the senior healer, gently told me to hold still. Feeling tired and irritable from my long convalescence, it was all I could do to keep from snapping at him. Instead, I bit my lip as they painfully peeled the bandages away from my wounds. Slowly, I became aware that the usual murmurings of the camp had swelled into a commotion down by the river. I tried to raise my head to see what was happening, but from my vantage point I could see nothing.

"The King!" came the cry. A half dozen warriors ran by my pallet in their haste to greet him. I groaned and tried to get up, but the healers would have none of that.

"We'll see that you are properly attired before the king arrives," said Erlamore. "Now hold still while I change this bandage."

I grit my teeth. Erlamore didn't know my father as I did.

"Here, Legolas." It was Ereglin. I turned my head to see him, "I've brought you a clean tunic. Can you leave off for a bit?" he asked the healers. "His father is halfway across the river. He won't stop at protocol to find his son."

"We're almost finished," said the healer. "There, now, Legolas, is that better?"

"Yes, much," I lied. "Now, if you will permit me to rise." I rolled over and sat up.

Ereglin helped me put on the tunic. He brandished a comb and quickly braided my hair.

Looking across the meadow, it seemed that the entire camp was making its way towards me. My father was in the lead, followed by a guard of perhaps eight. Behind them were many of the members of the company, no doubt intent on witnessing the reunion of the King with the Prince. Ereglin stood behind me and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

"Chin up, Legolas," he whispered into my ear. "It will be over soon."

My father slowed as he approached my pallet. I could tell that he wanted to envelop me in a warm embrace, but I met his eyes to warn him off. I wanted to meet him soldier to soldier, and besides, an embrace would be painful. "My lord," I said, placing a hand on my chest and bowing.

Thranduil came to a full stop, a variety of emotions playing across his face: fear, compassion, love, resignation. He pulled into himself and became the King. "Legolas, my son." He said gruffly, "What have they done to you?" He knelt down beside me and took my hands in his.

"We fought bravely," I said, "and all are well except for me. Talfil would not serve the muili criss, nor would Malenech see it done. I'm a little worse for the wear, but I will mend!"

"How could Malenech have left you in such danger?" demanded my father, "How could he have taken that risk?"

"The orcs were supposed to be south of here," I tried to assure him. "It was purely an accident that our paths crossed. My men did well, and I'm proud of them. I'll be well again soon." I knew as I spoke that he was not listening.

"We've got to get you to the safety of the keep," said my father decisively. "You've got to have some time to heal."

I withdrew my hands from his. "The captain says that I may fight again when I'm ready. I hope to be ready by the end of the week."

"Is that possible?" asked my father, turning to the healers. "He will be well enough by then?"

Erlamore bowed, "A week is a little optimistic, my lord. But in a fortnight he should have healed."

My father pursed his lips and looked at me grimly. "I would not have you fight again, Legolas. Surely after what you've been through. . ."

I met my father's gaze. "After what I've been through? I know the darkness well, now. I know that we must fight and that I must do my part!"

My father looked down and shook his head. His voice grew more subdued. "I know that, Legolas. Will you go to the keep at least for a time?" He met my eyes earnestly. "At least consider the option. It is not safe to fight unless you are in good condition. At least wait until you are fully healed?"

I saw how hard it was for my father. Opening my arms, I accepted his gentle embrace.

The King didn't wait for a seat to be brought to him, but sat on the ground beside me, accepting the welcome of the captain from there. The crowd dispersed, refreshments were offered, and I was able to share in some of the wine that had been brought down from the north. My father was skilled in making me more comfortable; he led the conversation from one light topic to another, carefully avoiding any mention of future plans.

"How long will you stay here?" I asked at length. The wine was making me relaxed and drowsy.

"We will have a council of war tomorrow," he responded. "The fight has been long and we must lay plans for what is to come. I've called all the captains to come. "

I thought of my conversation with Talfil. If my thoughts were true, a new way of fighting could improve our effectiveness. "I'd like to be part of that council if I may."

My father shook his head. "Your job, _nethben_, is to rest. The council will be long, and, much as I'd like for you to come, I think that rest would be better."

I set my cup down carefully. "I am well enough to attend. I am getting stronger every day. I'm the prince and I should be there."

"No, Legolas, you've been through a lot. I don't want to cross words with you. I've seen many who have been badly wounded, and I know that it takes time to heal. Bear with me in this, please?"

I shrugged.

"Thank you," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll be back to check on you this evening. Until then, duty calls." He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Be at peace, Legolas. All will be well."

My pallet was located high in the meadow, near the ridge. From my vantage point I could see the comings and goings of the camp. Our company, some hundred warriors, had managed with three fire pits. Another three were constructed for incoming troops.

A handful of soldiers were dispatched to hunt game. A detail was also set to haul water from a stream nearly a mile away. The river was closer, but the enemy had so fouled its black waters that they housed no life. The water was poisonous to drink. It was said that anyone who partook of the water would fall into a deep sleep. I never knew anyone so foolish as to try, but that is not to say it wasn't so.

Maethdorn was the first to arrive that afternoon. His patrol numbered ten, and was nearly too much for the supply raft that ferried them across the river. They greeted the captain and the company as old friends. Within a few hours, Gaervorn and Lainethir had crossed the river. I was pleasantly surprised to see Orothador in Lainethir's patrol. It had been many years since I had seen him dance the _uruvae_, but I had not forgotten him. He came to visit me almost at once.

"How goes it, little brother?" he asked as he approached my pallet. He walked with the grace that I so well remembered.

"I've been better," I admitted honestly, "but I'll be well soon. Do you serve with your friends? Do you still dance the _uruvae_?"

Orothador shook his head. "They are with me, but we don't dance. It's been three years since we've been north. Perhaps when we get home we'll dance again. Until then we fight."

"I don't have much to offer," I responded, "but I will fight with you."

Orothador smiled sadly. "You kept the orcs from crossing the river, Legolas. That was a significant victory for our side. I don't doubt that you'll fight again. Now tell me, what is the news from the north?"

We spoke then of more pleasant things. He promised to visit again before he left.  
The evening had an almost festive air about it. The day had been warm, and the setting sun sent a red hue across the grass in the meadow. From the confines of my pallet, I sat and watched the fires being lit. The warriors, reveling in the unexpected reprieve from fighting, clustered in small groups, telling stories and laughing. As the sun set, their features began to dim and I felt a pang of loneliness. Normally I would have been sleeping, but this evening, I felt alert and restless.

I smiled as four familiar figures detached themselves from the crowd and made their way to me.

"Eh, Legolas!" called out Ereglin, as they approached. "How goes the watch from the pallet?" They arrived and stood in a semi-circle at my feet.

"What are you after?" I asked, peering into the dusk. It was hard to see their faces.

"Do we have to be after something to see how you are doing?" asked Doron. "But now that you mention it, there is a favor we would ask of you."

"Only if you are well enough," said Talfil. "You should say no if you are not willing."

"What is the favor?"

"Well, it's like this," said Doron, crossing his arms. "Two of Lainither's men have been boasting that they are unbeatable at _hrithca_, but I pointed out to them that they couldn't make the claim, so long as there was someone who could beat them. Of course, they wanted to know who that might be, and so I told them that you were exceptionally good. It would've stopped there, but one of the fellows spoke up and said that he knows the King has never played, so he doesn't expect much from the King's son, and that's when I said-"

"That's when you bet your dice that you and Legolas could beat them," finished Talfil, "but really, Legloas, you don't have to play."

I grinned. After three days of recovery, I was ready to do something else. "Help me down to the fire, Doron, and you will have your match."

I leaned heavily on Ereglin and Brethilas, but I did make it to the fire. The conversation dwindled as I approached; every eye was on me. Several of the warriors bowed. I nodded my head in recognition. "No formality here, please. I've come to play hrithca." I said. "Who am I playing against?"

Two dark haired warriors stepped forward. They were enough alike to be brothers. "I'm Himduilin, and he's Magollin. Did you bring the dice?"

"I've got them right here," said Doron, handing them over.  
Himduilin took the dice and examined them carefully. "They'll do," he said at last. "We lost our set in the last skirmish. We'll be happy to take these off your hands."

"You can have them if you win, but if we win, what will the prize be?" demanded Doron.

Magollin turned to the warriors behind him, "I've lost my pack, but maybe one of you has something you'd be willing to bet?"

A slender soldier with wide-set eyes stepped forward. "I've seen the two of you play. I've got the last of my _miruvor_, at least two servings, that says you will win."

"Thank you," said Magollin, turning to me. "Will that do?"

I nodded enthusiastically. There was laughter.

I eased myself down to sit on the ground without assistance, and took a deep breath. "Well, then. Let's play."

Doron and I had not often played as a team because our combined skill was too great for that of our companions. Nevertheless, I knew his style well and we won the first two rounds easily.

"That _miruvor_ is calling my name," said Doron as we started the third round. "If we win this one, it's mine."

"If you win this one," challenged Himduilin, "it is three out of five. Don't get your hopes up."

The play continued. We were ringed by a group of soldiers who were watching, bantering with one another and offering advice. I enjoyed their company immensely.

We were not favored to win the third hand, and we finally lost by one roll of the dice. The fourth hand was nothing more than a run of bad rolls. I arched my back and stretched. It would probably be a good idea to lie down again, but I would not admit it.

Halfway through the fifth round, silence descended on the group. I looked up to see the source of the distraction, and found myself gazing into my father's eyes. I had forgotten that he was planning to visit with me. He looked the set over appraisingly. "Don't stop playing on my account, Legolas. I'll just watch for awhile." The crowd shuffled over to give the King ample room.

The round continued. Our opponents had chosen a loose pattern sequence that could be satisfied with any number of rolls. It didn't score as well, but it was more likely to play out. Doron and I were cornered by a simple pattern that required two specific rolls of the dice. On my next to last turn I rolled one of the pieces we needed. That tied us with Magollin and Himduilin. The chances of rolling the winning piece were slim. If we stayed tied, we would play another round.

I was worn out. I had started to sweat beneath my bandages and my head ached terribly. I longed to go back to my pallet. The best strategy was to accept the tie. We had a much better chance of winning a new round than rolling the missing piece, but I wasn't sure if I could manage it. I looked at Doron. He knew the odds as well as I. I glanced at my father. He raised his eyebrows and returned my gaze.

"Tie," I said. "We'll play again."

"Legolas," said my father after a moment, "it seems you are doing much better than I thought. I'll see you tomorrow at the council." With a nod of his head, he turned and departed.

By the time we won the extra round, I was almost too exhausted to stand. Ereglin and Brethilas nearly carried me up the hill. I left Doron and Talfil to collect the miruvor and accept the congratulations from the others.

The meeting was set in a clearing just over the ridge in a copse of oak and maple, well out of earshot of the camp. The trees were huge; the spring growth made a light green canopy far overhead. Logs had been arranged in a circle for the captains to sit on. A space on the ground had been cleared to set out a large map that my father carried with him. Ereglin helped me to settle on a log near the entrance to the circle and then departed. I enjoyed the solitude for a few moments, feeling an errant breeze that wafted through the clearing and listening to the sound of a woodpecker off in a distant tree.

After a few moments, my father entered the clearing. He paused to rest a hand lightly on a great oak. He nodded towards me. "They are wounded, Legolas, but they are strong still." He smiled then came and sat beside me. "Out in the field we are far less formal than at the caverns," he continued. "You'll learn a lot if you pay attention."

"And if I want to speak?"

He raised his eyebrows. "If you want to speak, Legolas, you may, although listening might serve you better."

I nodded.

Malenech and Lainethir arrived together. Malenech was stern as always, but Lainethir looked to be in a foul mood. He was tall and angular, often reminding me of a hawk. I had seen him about the keep when his company was on rotation, but had usually done my best to avoid him. Gaervorn and Maelthdorn were brothers, and of a much more jovial temperament. They were joking with Thormor, my father's field general, as they came into the clearing.

The other four captains soon assembled. All were dressed in the brown and green of the warriors, with black vests to signify their rank. Gaervorn and Maelthdorn were kind enough to greet me. Lainethir looked at me suspiciously, and the others ignored me. In the field I knew I had no rank. I realized also that this was to have been a closed meeting where the captains could speak with candor. I sat quietly and kept to myself.

The map was spread out and the captains gathered around it, pointing out the known location of orcs and spiders, and the pockets of darkness that were too forsaken for warriors to go safely. From my vantage point, nearly all of the land was occupied by the enemy. They were currently fighting on four fronts, depending on swift messengers to keep the companies engaged where they were needed the most.

"The question isn't if they will cross the river," said Thormor at one point, "but when. There are three places on the river that I think they will try to cross. Here, here and here."

"I'd like to set patrols on those areas," said Gaervorn, "but I don't have the manpower. Lainethir, do you have enough to see it done?"

"We were supposed to be rotated home a year ago, last week," said Lainethir. "If we put off our return by a few months, we could cover the area until winter. I doubt there would be a crossing then."

"Last fall, I extended rotations home from two to three years. I hate to extend it again," said my father. "Thormor, do you see another way that it can be done?"

Thormor shook his head. "Our archers are spread too thinly as it is."

"What chance of getting some new recruits to fill in?" asked Gwion.

"We had five in Legolas' class," said Malenech. "That's down from twenty to thirty a decade ago. We've tapped out our current population. There just aren't any more youth to sign up. Virtually all of our able bodied men are in the field."

Maethdorn shook his head. "What if we fall back and put our full force at the river? Admit that we've lost everything south of the river and work on defending the north bank?"

"We can't afford to do that," explained my father. "We've got villages just over a day's ride away. We'd have to ask them to move, and I doubt they would. We just need more people who can fight."

"I have an idea," I said quietly. Silence fell. All eyes turned towards me.

"Well, Thranduilion?" asked Malench at last.

"We have spread our forces too thinly for safety. General Thormor, how many arrows does it take for an experienced warrior to fell an orc?"

"One, if it's properly shot," he said dryly. "But in general? I'd say that we use three or four arrows for every fatal shot. Why do you ask?"

"In hunting, every arrow makes its mark," I responded. "I would like to propose that we make our archers into hunters."

Lainethir glared at me. "Have you learned nothing from your lessons, young Thranduilion? Hunting takes listening, and I'm sure you've been taught never to listen in the field. Furthermore, orcs don't have spirits, so there is nothing to be listening for." He turned to his companions, "Now where were we?"

"I have listened to an orc," I said quietly, "and orcs do have spirits."

"Is that all?" asked Lainether finally.

I looked down and nodded.

Maethdorn glanced at the other captains, then spoke gently to me. "Legolas, there is no doubt that what you did was brave and heroic. You have proven your strength; you have proven your courage. What happened to you when you were taken by the orcs should not have happened to anyone. Is it possible, hard as it may seem, that some of your perceptions when you were with the orcs might have been distorted? Is it possible that you are not remembering things as they were, but things that a traumatized mind might have thought?"

I looked at him and shook my head. "It wasn't that way!"

"We've heard what you've had to say and we will take it into consideration," said Gaervorn kindly. "Each of us has fought the enemy for more centuries than you can imagine, little one. We'll get through this trial. Sit still and listen, now."

I looked around. The captains were all staring at me and nodding. I sought my father. He was looking at me oddly. Stupefied, I sat and watched the captains go back to their tasks. Their words slid into a gentle cadence which had no meaning for me.

When the last of the captains left the clearing, my father came and sat beside me. I picked up a small stone from the ground and held it in my hand. It was smooth and white and felt warm from the sun.

"Legolas, about what happened today-"he began.

"It was a small orc," I responded, looking at the rock. "I didn't mean to listen, but when I did,_ ai_, the pain and agony that he suffered! And his spirit was there, Ada. It was dim and tortured, more of a breath than of substance." I raised my eyes to meet my father's. "As a tauron I would do what is necessary to bring him relief."

My father gazed at me. "Legolas," he said slowly, "how would you bring relief without imperiling yourself? I spoke with Brethilas. You were being consumed by the same darkness that fed on Luinthol. If Brethilas had not sung for you, you would be dead by now. How can you talk of sacrificing yourself for the sake of an orc? What good would it be to save the orc, if we lost you in the process?"

I set back my shoulders and breathed deeply. I did not want my father to think that I was insane. "The Laegrim are our hunters with good cause. We know the art of listening. When we hunt, we listen for the spirit of the animal and envision the arrow piercing the vital organs to swiftly kill the animal. As he dies, he releases his spirit to the woods. It is an honorable act. This kind of listening is brief and swift. It carries little danger with it. I know this because I have done it." I had my father's full attention. "If they do have spirits, then we do a disservice to the orcs by maiming them. If we hunted them, they would die quickly and their spirits would be released."

"You speak as one of the Laegrim, Legolas. What will it take to help you to see your Sindar side as well? Malenech has trained warriors for centuries. Most of them have been Laegrim. After the bloodbath at Dagorlad where my father died, I asked him to develop guidelines and techniques that would make our Laegrim into better fighters. We've fought that way ever since. What you are suggesting, letting the Laegrim fight in their own way is a dangerous path. It would put our soldiers at risk, and for what? To save the supposed spirits of a few orcs?"

"You don't believe me!"

My father stood and clenched his fists, then opened his hands. "It's not about believing you, it's about keeping my warriors safe in the field. What you are suggesting is shortsighted. If we changed one area of fighting protocol, where would it end? No, Legolas, you need to step down. This whole idea is the result of the damage that was done to you in the field. I've half a mind to order you back to the keep for a year!"

"It was due to a change in protocol that I am here today!" I retorted, standing to face the king. "Talfil would not serve the muili criss, and Malenech would not see it done. You want to hide me away because I was an embarrassment to you today, but my words have merit. If it works, we could double or triple the efficiency of your warriors. Listening would make the battlefield a much safer place!"

"I am grateful that they changed protocol for your sake," said my father at last. He looked at me candidly. "But you must understand. Our fighting forces are under a tremendous amount of pressure right now. I can't allow any changes or distractions from our intent. You, on the other hand, need to be as far from the fighting as possible to give yourself time to mend."

"I will retire from the fighting for three months, if that would please you," I said, affecting submission. "But give me Orothador and his companions to train for that time. Give me a chance to prove to you I'm right. You will not regret it."

My father gazed at me shrewdly for a long moment. Finally a small smile played at his lips. "You drive a hard bargain, nethben. If you will go willingly to the keep, I will see it done."


	46. Chapter 47

Lainethir lost a third of his company when Orothador's thirty- five companions were assigned to me. It took my father nearly a full day in seclusion with his captains to convince them of my plans and make arrangements to replace Lainethir's men. I was not privy to the meeting, but saw the captains returning to the camp. They were grim and somber. My father was serious too, but his countenance brightened when he saw me.

"You've got your troops," he said, coming to where I sat by the fire. "It will take another day or so for them to arrive. I can spare them to train for three months, no more. When they return, they will be under your command, but you will answer to me. Is that clear?"

My confidence wavered for only a moment. I squared my shoulders and met his eyes. "Thank you," I said. "I will not fail you."

"See that you don't," said my father. He sat down beside me, resting his hands on his knees. "Malenech has decided to send your four companions home with you as well. Just between the two of us, he feels that they are too green for work in the field. They didn't complete their year of training, and he thinks that another three months of work will do them good. I'm not sure he's clear about what you are envisioning, but I hope you don't disappoint him."

"I'll do my best," I promised.

The king sighed. "This whole thing is a calculated risk, Legolas. If this works it could turn the tide of battle to our favor. If you are wrong. . ."

"I'm not wrong," I promised him. "I really believe this will work."

My father looked at me for a long moment, as though taking my measure. "There is one favor I would ask of you," he said finally, leaning slightly towards me. "And you may consider it a command. Return to the keep by litter. It will be a much quicker journey, and safer for you as well."

"But Ada!" I protested, "I am fine! I can walk the distance. Don't disgrace me in this way!"

"Your youth is showing again," admonished the King. "There is no shame in a wounded warrior returning to the keep by litter. The healer said that it would be two weeks before you were mended. That arrow wound may take even longer to heal. I'm sure Orothador and his companions will consider it an honor to bear you home."

I rubbed my face with my hand. In truth I had wondered how long it would take to get home in my current condition. I didn't like the thought of travelling by litter, but I needed to get home. "If it is an order," I acquiesced, "it will be done."

"Excellent. Your troops will arrive soon. Until then, I suggest you rest." He stood and squeezed my shoulder before he departed. I drew up one leg and rested my chin on my knee. My idea had sounded so simple. I hoped that I could put it all together.

At noon two days later, Orothador's companions arrived. It took four trips of the supply raft to see them across. I stood watching with him from a spot high in the meadow, waiting to greet them. The last time I had seen most of them, they had been dressed for the _uruvae_; in breeches and painted blue with woad. The green and brown of the military issue looked out of place on their bodies. They were all of the slender build of the Laegrim, with dark hair and grey eyes. As they disembarked, they moved with uncommon grace and beauty, as was fitting for dancers. The troops did not immediately come to the rise where Orothador and I waited, but stood at the dock, waiting for all to cross. Several of them set their packs and bows at their feet and gestured with their hands as they spoke. I could hear the mellifluous cadence of their talk from where I stood.

When all had arrived, packs and bows were taken up again, and they moved in military formation to greet us. "Eh, Orothador," said one of the warriors as they approached, "you have found the prince!" There was laughter. The formation broke, and they surrounded me, touching my arms and hands in welcome. I felt immersed in their good will.

"Enough of this," said Orothador at length. "You'll have plenty of time with Legolas in the days to come, but for now there is work to be done. We've been assigned the far fire pit for tonight. Take your things over there. Galas and Maedhrui, you are on water duty. Thombaran, and Condir, you'll see that there is meat in the pot tonight. Halthor, you'll cook for us. We're feeding the prince and his company tonight, so give us your best. The rest of you can take your leisure. Seron, I want a full update on what you've been doing since I was gone."

"But I thought Legolas was to be our commander," replied Seron, in dismay.

"And so he will be, soon enough," said Orothador. "Until then, you put up with me!"

I spent a fascinating afternoon listening to Seron report to Orothador. He detailed the skirmishes they had been in and the strengths and weaknesses of each warrior. He spoke objectively, but with great affection. Orothador's group was among the best. Their absence would be felt. I had to wonder what my father had done to secure their release.

That evening my companions and I ate at Halthor's fire. Evidently he was known for his cooking. Several hunters from other companies offered their game to his pot and he took it gladly. He wound up serving nearly a hundred warriors that night. The meat was delicious, lightly seasoned with something I did not recognize. When I asked, I was told it was a specialty of the South. Condir insisted that it was from the legs of a spider, but I could not believe him.

We left early the next morning. Spring was finally cloaking the trees in green. The sun was bright and warm; much more welcoming than when we'd arrived. The warriors marched in loose formation, quietly treading a soothing rhythm. They talked softly among themselves. Laughter was not uncommon. I think they were relieved to be going home. Watching the trees pass by as I was lying down was a little disconcerting, but the six warriors who held the litter distracted me with light conversation and stories from the field. We stopped briefly for lunch, and then it was back on the road again. By the time we made camp I was very eager to be up.

Ereglin and Halthor worked together on the evening meal, and soon the air was filled with the succulent aroma of rabbit stew, seasoned to perfection. Dipped in the stew, the waybread was hearty and satisfying. There were no logs to sit on, so many simply stood to eat, while myself and a few others sat cross-legged on the ground. The conversation ebbed and flowed, and laughter rippled across the clearing.

Orothador approached and folded his long legs to sit beside me. "Well, commander, what do you think of your troops so far?"

I met his eyes. "A fine fighting force, from what I learned yesterday. I hope when I take command my plans are well received. I do not want to disrupt success."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you ready to take command?"

I nodded. "Almost. Tell me, Orothador, when was the last time you danced the _uruvae_?"

"A little over three years ago. We usually dance it on the eve of our departure. It strengthens resolve and clears the mind. Our best fighting comes just after the _uruvae_ has been danced."

"And yet dancing and singing is not allowed in the field. Do you ever wish it was?"

He shrugged. "Why wish for something we cannot have? We are trained to fight the Sindar way. It is for our own good."

I peered at him. "Do you really believe that?"

Orothador smiled and looked away. "Eh, Legolas I am just a poor wood elf. When we agreed to follow the King, we agreed to submit to his will. He approves of Malenech's training and has for centuries. Why would he change?"

"Perhaps because he knows that there are many kinds of strength. This command that he has given me is designed to make hunters out of our archers. I can't help but believe that a full change of heart will be needed." I paused. "Where are your hunting knives, Orothador? Are they back at your village?"

"We only carry what is most needed in our packs," said Orothador. Softly he added, "but none of my warriors would travel without their knives."

"Ask the troops to get into formation," I said, standing. "I am ready to take command."

Soon the troops were assembled; my own four were at the front. There was not a sound to be heard save for the chirping of some birds in the trees. I chewed my lower lip thoughtfully. If I was to lead this group for any amount of time, I must have their respect. I could not afford to be patronized or humored, and I knew that my age counted against me. I studied the faces before me. They were waiting for me to speak. I licked my lips and squared my shoulders. I looked from one face to another.

"My name is Legolas Thranduilion," I said at last. "The King has given me three months to train you in a technique that is an important departure from protocol. Until today, you have fought faithfully and well under the guidance of Malenech and the command of Lainethir. From this day forward, I will give you new guidelines. I work with the approval of the King. If tonight you find that my methods do not suit, then I give you permission to return to the field without penalty. If you leave with me tomorrow, you commit to serving me as you have served Lainethir, faithfully and well." I paused. The faces before me were impassive and impossible to read. "Each of you has fought hard and served well for the past three years. I would ask of you a little more before we reach the keep. Go to your packs now. Take off your shirts, remove your boots. Return to me with your hunting knives."

My request was met by dead silence. Several of the warriors looked sidelong at one another. After a moment or two, Orothador went to his pack. The rest followed. I stood waiting. When they returned, they were all barefoot and bare backed with long stone knives held loosely in their hands. In all that time, not a word was spoken.

I glanced at Orothador and then back at the troops. I tried to stand as tall and straight as possible. I let my gaze travel from face to face as I spoke. "This evening you will renew your connection with the Song of the woods. You will dance the _uruvae_ as a reminder that you are Laegrim and the Song is within you. We celebrate your safe return from battle. We celebrate the spring. We celebrate what it means to be Laegrim." I paused to let my words settle. "Brethilas, Doron, Ereglin and Talfil, come and sit with me, but watch carefully. It is my intention that you will learn the _uruvae_ and dance it with confidence before our three months are spent."

I had stood too long, and my knees were beginning to tremble. Carefully, and with as much confidence as I could muster, I retreated to the base of a large tree where I could sit and lean against the trunk. I looked at the troops from where I was seated, and they gazed back at me. For one seemingly eternal moment I thought that I had lost them for sure. They might humor me, but they would never respect me. My companions came and sat beside me. Then slowly, slowly as a great beast stretches when it awakens, the soldiers began to move.

Someone began to sing a low resonant tone. The note was picked up by the rest of the warriors, until the clearing hummed with the sonorous sound. It continued to swell as they arranged themselves in three groups of twelve. They stood motionless as they sang, except for their chests, which rose and fell, eventually falling into unison, a deep breathing rhythm that spoke of great strength and power. The tone reverberated through the clearing. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. The tension mounted. I found myself breathing with the warriors. My hands began to sweat.

With a loud, "Hey!" the clearing exploded with movement. Knives began swirling and twirling and thrashing. Thirty six dancers with power and agility, focus and determination. Twisting arms and stomping legs. Warriors turning, thrusting, thrashing. All with perfect timing, perfect synchrony, perfect motion.

Oh, how I wanted to join in the dance! Part of the dance, part of the energy, part of the rhythm! My legs tensed and my hands balled into fists. Knives slashed and flashed, bodies leapt; the strength and agility and raw power were hard to comprehend. I watched slack-jawed as the dancers swirled before me, forgetting my body, forgetting myself. I was caught in the movement and the power of the moment. There was nothing but the dance and it was a part of me and I was lost within it.

Then it was done.

My heart was racing and I found myself breathing rapidly. I had to force myself to sit still and stay calm. Talfil shifted beside me. "Wait," I whispered. "There's more."

The second dance of the uruvae began slowly. Eye to eye the soldiers stood, at first mirroring each other's moves, but as the dance progressed the pair became locked in battle, knives flashing white in the dying sunlight. They parried and thrust and spun and leapt. Offence and defense flickered between the pairs, and yet the blades never touched flesh, never touched one another. Block and strike, block and parry. The tempo of the dance increased. I found myself breathing heavily. It could not go faster. It could not, and yet it did. Just when I felt that the tempo would overtake me, Orothador cried, "Hey!" and the dance was done.

The sun was all but set sending shadows across the dancers. The warriors walked to the side of the clearing and laid down their knives. They took a moment to shake out their legs, wipe their sweating brows, and push their hair firmly behind their shoulders. When they were ready again, they stood eight strong in an outer circle, and four within. They began marking time by beating on their bared chests. When a rhythm was established, the beating stopped, but the dance rhythm moved on. Each pair on the outside attacked the warrior within. They had no weapons, only their legs and arms, hands and feet. This was the dance of body fighting, where the warrior used only skill and agility to bring down the enemy. There was no synchrony here, only the timeless grace of the warriors themselves. Each encounter was a feast for the eyes. The attackers would strike out, then fall back, kicking high, turning low. The defender would block and spin and duck. The tempo quickened, and the couples moved to take on a new defendant. Twice warriors fell. They were up again in a moment, resuming the dance.

I looked at Orothador. If we could harness this movement, these strategies, this dance and use it in combat, what a formidable foe our people would become! I became lost in possibilities, and almost missed the end of the dance.

With a final, "Hey!" it was over. The dancers froze for a moment then came to themselves and stepped into formation; six wide by six deep. They stood silently and did not move.

"Why are they standing there?" whispered Doron at length.

"They await the arrival of their leader. They will not recognize anyone else." explained Ereglin.

Orothador stepped out of formation and faced the warriors. I fully expected them to affirm Orothador, but they stood impassive, not making a move.

Slowly, I got to my feet. I took a deep breath and began walking towards the warriors. Small twigs and leaves whispered under my boots. The woods were silent. The warriors stood still, gazing to a place behind me. Finally, when I was within an arm span of the front row, I stopped. Suddenly, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. They would not recognize me. I would be seen as a youngster to be tolerated, nothing more. After a long moment, Seron extended his hand and grasped me by the shoulder.

"Thank you, Legolas." he said. "We follow your command." The warriors broke rank then and came to me laughing and touching my shoulders in a sign of respect. 


	47. Chapter 48

We made good time the next day and camped about a half day's walk from the keep. The morning of our final day, about an hour from our destination, I persuaded the warriors to dismantle the litter so that I could return home on my own two feet. Even so, Mainid met me at the gate. She ordered me to the healing house where I lay on a bed as she stripped the bandages from my wounds, grumbling and fussing as she went.

"Ereglin tended my wounds on the road!" I protested. "And I am almost healed."

"These bandages are worn and dirty," retorted Mainid. "It's a wonder your wounds didn't become infected. Now hold still, I'm almost done."

I bit my lip. Mainid was thorough, but not very gentle.

"I don't know who had it in mind that you should walk here," she continued. "You should stay here in the house of healing and be on bed rest for another few days."

"I travelled by litter, most of the way here," I confessed. "I can't afford to rest any longer. If I come to you regularly for care, can I at least stay in the barracks?"

Mainid washed the wounds and efficiently rebound them. "I suppose I can allow that. No marching or long days for you. You need your rest." She tied off the last of the bandages. "Come by in the morning when you get up, and in the evenings before you go to bed. And stay away from Ereglin. He knows nothing about good care!"

I rolled off the bed onto my feet. "My thanks, Mainid. I'll see you this evening." In fact, the new bandages felt better. I crossed the training grounds to the barracks.

Ereglin had taken my leather pack and set it beside my bed. "We were just going to come and look for you," he said as I entered the room. "We were afraid Mainid wouldn't let go of you once she had her hands on you. Heledirn stopped by and offered to bring lunch. I accepted."

"I don't need to be coddled," I growled, sitting down on my bed.

"Let us do this for you now, Legolas," insisted Ereglin. "Tomorrow is soon enough to run yourself ragged."

I stretched out and took a deep breath. It did feel good to rest. "I'll have lunch here today," I conceded, "but after that I'll eat with the troops."

I gave several hours for everyone to settle in. The five of us were housed once again in the barracks. The warriors dispersed to the talans. We met again in the late afternoon. I had thought initially of meeting with the troops on the training grounds, but on second thought, I found that the Midsummer Clearing was much more to my liking.

Arriving early, I took my perch on a large boulder . The trees rose high above me. A warm wind played across the clearing, carrying with it the sounds of birds and small animals within the woods. The warriors arrived by twos and threes, still wearing the green and the brown of the troops. As they drew near, they bowed to me as protocol demanded, then took their ease, sitting and visiting with their companions.

When at last the full company was present, I stood. Soon the conversations subsided and I had their undivided attention. I did not request that they stand in formation, but began talking as one friend to another.

"When I was taken by the orcs," I said, gazing into their faces. "I felt the darkness, I drank their brew, I was beaten and bruised. But I discovered that my experience was only a fraction of the pain and agony suffered by the orcs themselves. Quite by accident, I listened to an orc. What I found within, deep beneath the darkness, was the spirit of the creature." I paused. All eyes were on me. "I know that you have been told otherwise, but there was a light. If we can fight by listening to the spirit, as we do in hunting, we will slay the orcs more effectively and free their spirits from torment."

My words were met with silence. The warriors began speaking softly with one another. I stood patiently and waited for their conversations to subside. Condir was sitting with a group of about seven warriors. He stood and bowed. "Legolas, we believe you have listened to the spirit of an orc. We have discussed such a possibility among ourselves before. But are you sure of what you sensed? We must know."

I nodded. "That whisper of light was so dim. But it was there."

"There is not one among us who has not killed his share of orcs," said Seron after a time. "The weight of war rests heavily on our own souls. Killing damages the Laegrim. That fact is well known. Now I know why. The thought that I have wantonly killed creatures who harbor even a vestige of light makes me ill. But what hope do we have of changing things?"

"We fight by listening," I said. "By acknowledging the presence of the spirit, acknowledging the hopelessness of its situation, by knowing that in mercy we can set it free to rejoin the Song and the Spirit of the woods, we fight with new purpose and new determination. Will you fight with me?"

At first there was no movement. Orothador stood and gazed at his companions. Finally, he turned and met my eyes. I could see the weight of his age in their grey depths. "This way of killing is respectful to the woods. It is respectful to the spirits of the orcs. It is respectful to our spirits. We have promised to follow you, Legolas. Tell us what needs to be done."

"For now," I paused, more relieved than I cared to show, "there are five in this clearing who do not know the _uruvae_. I am convinced that it will be an important part of what we do. Who will teach it to us? I am eager to learn."

We divided the troops so that seven warriors were working with one novice. It was no surprise that the dance started with listening.

"When the singing starts, that is when you begin your breathing," said Thombaran, the leader of my group. "You listen for the music of the woods. It is the Song that guides you through the dance. Breathe in and fill yourself with the Song. Breathe out and sing. Let go of all distractions."

I had been so long without singing that the exercise was a challenge. After a time, I closed my eyes so that I could better envision the Song. As I sang the single note for the _uruvae_, I felt as though a dam burst and I was immersed again in the beauty and harmony of the Song. Like a breath of fresh air, my spirits were lifted. I felt renewed, restored and whole. I opened my eyes.

Thombaran was grinning at me. "Eh, Legolas, it feels good, doesn't it?"

"How do you go without singing for years at a time?" I asked.

He sobered. "I thirst for singing as I thirst for water, but there are times when it has been forbidden. We fight the King's way. We always have."

We worked on the_ uruvae_ until the clearing began to settle into dusk. Reluctantly I called a halt. "Meet me here tomorrow morning at first light," I commanded when I had everyone's attention. "Leave your boots and the trappings of the warrior behind. Tomorrow you will be the guest of the forest. You will spend the day listening to the Song and the spirits of those who live in the woods.

The last of the light was leaving the training grounds when I made my way to the barracks. After my time in the field, supper had been a veritable feast, including some of Sedeliel's wonderful dinner rolls. I had eaten until I was quite full. Reluctantly, I left my companions listening raptly to stories from the warriors, and sought the solitude of the barracks. I thought I might lie down before seeking out the healer for my wounds. I was surprised to see Orothador waiting at my door. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, as though he had been there for some time.

"Evening, Orothador." I slowed as I approached.

Orothador straightened and smiled at me. "It is a good evening, little brother. I am wondering if you would like to join me for a walk?"

I started to shake my head, when it occurred to me that perhaps he wanted to talk.

"My father used to take the path up behind the birch," I said, pointing to the far end of the training ground. "If we climb past the boulder field there is an overlook. We can sit and talk there."

Orothador nodded. "Are you too weary to climb?"

"No," I lied. I shrugged, letting my curiosity get the better of me. Orothador followed me across the training field and up the narrow pathway without a word.

Normally, I would have danced lightly across the boulders, but the day had been long. Orothador was very patient in allowing me to move at my own pace. By the time we got to the overlook, the stars had emerged, dimmed only by the brightness of a waning moon that illuminated the ground in shades of grey. I did not walk to the top of the hill, but sat near the summit. The overlook faced north to the mountains that folded in upon one another in shades of darkness.

"It's good to see that the darkness can be beautiful," I said softly.

"It is good that you are here to appreciate that," responded Orothador, sitting beside me. "We came very close to losing you, little brother. I'm glad that you were spared."

It was quiet there on the hillside. The view was unbroken, save for the occasional bat that flittered high above. The wind was still. I felt the strength of the rocks beneath me and I felt secure. I would have rested in silence for hours, but Orothador stirred.

"Legolas, tell me what your father has asked you to do."

I peered at him through the darkness. "I told him that by listening to orcs and freeing their spirits we could improve our effectiveness in the field, and free the orcs at the same time."

"That would involve hunting, which is one thing. But that is not all that you are about, Legolas. And for that I have concerns."

"What do you mean, Orothador?"

"Meeting in the woods instead of the training grounds, speaking to the troops when they weren't in formation, encouraging them to teach you the_ uruvae_, to dance barefoot, and to come tomorrow not as warriors. Legolas, are these things that your father would want you to do?"

"I see nothing wrong with what I am doing."

"We are soldiers, Legolas. And while we serve we cannot be Laegrim. Your father has decreed it and Malenech has confirmed it. For centuries it has been this way. And now you wish to change it."

"I do wish to change it," I confessed. "I see no problem in using the _uruvae_. It is a strength too long denied. And we are more secure on our feet without those boots. Boronel used to hate them, and I know that my companions fought with more confidence when they had no boots. Why would my father object to my taking steps to make our forces stronger?"

"Your father does not trust the Laegrim ways. He was there at Dagorlad where only a third of our forces survived. Part of him knows that it was his father's indiscretion that cost us so, but part of him believes that if the Laegrim had been trained differently, the outcome might have changed. He has not let us fight like Laegrim since that day."

"But that's wrong!" I exclaimed. "We should train our fighters to be the best. You said yourself that some of your best fighting happened after you danced the _uruvae_. That's one reason I am hoping to use it as part of my training. We must make use of all of our resources, not just those marked 'Sindar.'"

"I should not tell you what to do, Legolas. You are in command, and the Laegrim are ever loyal to their commanders. I only share this information with you because I am concerned. Your actions will not be well received if you continue on this course."

I bit my lip and gazed into the night. For nearly a year I had trained in Malenech's way. I could see now that it was truly a Sindar way. No singing? No dancing? Those were the very lifeblood of the Laegrim. To deny them those things was to keep them from fighting as well as they could. I realized then something that I hadn't really thought of before. All of the captains were Sindar. Why? Unless there was some reason that Laegrim could not be trusted with authority.

I folded my legs and rested my arms on my knees."What's it like serving under Lainethir?" I asked.

"Oh, it's not so bad. He sees what he wants to see. I lead my men, but I give him the credit. He is satisfied with that."

"Why don't you just fight as your heart tells you?" I asked. "Why don't the Laegrim have a say in how the fighting is done?"

"You forget that we owe the Sindar many things," said Orothador. He leaned forward. "They brought us the bow and arrow, farming, and the keeping of animals. They brought us metal for stronger knives. And they wanted to lead. What Laegel do you know who wants to do that?" He shrugged. "If they wish to dictate the way that we fight, it is within their authority to do so. The Laegrim are good at following. We have no interest in gaining power."

"It's not a question of gaining power," I exclaimed, "It's the a matter of fighting effectively! If I truly want to thwart the enemy, and certainly I do, then we must seek out the best ways of doing so! I was given this command with no restrictions. My father didn't say to me, "do this in the way of the Sindar." He knew at the outset that I would call on Laegrim resources, on listening if nothing else. No, Orothador, I don't think he will have a problem if I command my Laegrim fighters to fight true to their hearts."

Orothador shook his head. "Legloas, this will not go well with the other captains. Mark my words. Your actions will result in a lot of unrest."

I crossed my arms and looked at the stars. They were bright and unchanging. "I hear your words, Orothador. I will think on them tonight. Tomorrow's activity is listening. That has the blessing of the King. Beyond that, I cannot say. Unlike you, I have been called to lead, and I must do that to the best of my ability."


	48. Chapter 49

Another Road, Chapter 49c

Kymahalei

It was chilly the next morning as we emerged into the predawn. The moon had long since set, so the five of us found our way to Sedeliel's bakery by starlight. It was too cold to sit. We stood with our backs to the warm ovens, shifting from one foot to the other as we downed great quantities of honey cakes and hot tea.

"Well, Legolas, have you thought of what we are to call you?" asked Doron around a bite of honey cake.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, we can't call you 'captain,' because you're not one. Prince Legolas might be nice. But you're in command now, you need a title."

"Orothador leads his men without a title." I shrugged. "I will go by Legolas. It's better that way."

"Suit yourself," said Doron. "If I was in charge, I'd for sure take a title. Supreme Commander, Great One in Charge. Something simple and unassuming."

Talfil laughed, "If you were in charge, you'd have us drilling all day. Legolas isn't like that. I mean, you're not going to drill us all day ,  
are you Legolas?"

I shook my head. I was still trying to figure out exactly what I was going to do. I thought of Istuilalf and the many lessons he had given me and Ereglin. So many of them involved learning to listen, to be sensitive to the woods and the sky and the ground and the water. Now it was my turn to lead, and I needed to have a plan. How could we learn to listen to that ragged fluttering that was the spirit of the orc?

When we reached the clearing, the troops had already gathered. They were barefoot, and dressed in the short tunic and breeches of the village. The green and brown issue had given a sense of unity and strength to the troops. Dressed as they were, in tunics of subdued colors, the warriors looked less formidable, but more in keeping with the subtle hues of the woods.

I made my way to the boulder at the side of the clearing. Once again, I allowed the men to stand in formation. I stood silently by the rock and waited for the warriors to quiet. A thought occurred to me then, one that would take us even further into the ways of the Laegrim, but that might offer insights for the task at hand. As soon as the quiet was complete, I began to speak.

"There was a time when I was young," There was gentle laughter at this. "I mean when I was younger, that Istuilalf, one of the Avari, took me under his wing and taught me. One day, he brought me to a stream, and had me lie face down in the water. He grasped my shoulders and helped me to listen. I listened then as I never had before. I was the rippling of the water, the flowing of the current. I flowed powerfully through the stream bed that embraced me. I held the lives of fish and plants and small crayfish in my heart. Birds came to me for food, other animals for drink. I knew them all. I was one with the movement, one with the dance of the lives intertwined with the river. My waters were strong, swirling into eddies and quiet channels. I was the water and the water was me." I paused. "When I came up for air, the spell was broken. I was myself, only richer for being one with river." I looked over the faces of my warriors. I had their rapt attention.

"What we are about today is learning to listen to a tattered spirit, so cowed and tortured that it exists only as a breath, only as a dim light, hardly there. We cannot find this spirit by using our ears or our minds or even our hearts. We will come to it only through being so one with the woods that all spirits become evident to us. You know the spirit of the blue jays. They are strong and bold, and you know the spirit of the mice that scurry beneath the ground cover. They are timid and shy. In the same way, you must come to know the spirits of the orcs, for they are creatures too. Not made by the enemy, but overwhelmed by him." I paused to let my words settle.

"How would you have us listen, Legolas?" It was Condir. His face was intent and earnest.

"I have seen you listen to one another. Go today and set aside all distractions. Breathe the woods, sing to the woods and listen. You are to become one with the woods, aware of all that it is, aware of all that it holds."

I heard a collective sigh of contentment. The warriors were smiling broadly, looking at one another with sidelong glances. Talfil and Brethilas and Ereglin looked pleased. Doron was uncertain. He had grown up desiring to be a soldier. I doubted that he had ever worked much with listening. "Go with Talfil," I urged him. "He will show you the way. Ereglin, you're with me," I continued. "The rest of you may go. Come again when the sun is setting. We'll eat supper at the dining pavilion, then convene here with a fire and share the stories of our day."

Silently the group stood and dispersed. It was a matter of moments until I was alone in the clearing with Ereglin.

"What's next, Legolas?" he asked.

"A trip to Aranthar at the armory," I said. "I need you to go to my room in the caverns and get my long bow and quiver of arrows. My hunting knives are there as well. Bring them. I'll fetch my short bow and arrows. It will be good to see Aranthar again. He's got some answers for us. I'm sure of it."

We met again at the entrance to the armory. The sunlight reflected off the two large glass windows set into the front of the building. Ereglin held my long bow cradled in his hand. The quiver was slung across his back. I didn't knock on the closed door, but opened it and walked in. The place was much as I remembered it. The long shelves, laden with swords and other weapons, lined the walls and filled the space of a huge room. There was no one else in the building, save for Aranthar, his long form flowing from one move to another as he tried the weight and the feel of a sword that was dull and tarnished with age. He paused and looked up as we entered.

"Prince Legolas, what a delight to see you again! I heard that you had returned from the South, but I didn't expect you to visit me. How can I help you?" He returned his blade to a wide table at the side of the room.

Ereglin and I put our quivers and bows on the table. Ereglin laid my two hunting knives down as well.

"I need your advice," I told the armsmaster. "We've been given a task by the King, and we will need some weapons made. I thought you might help us in their design."

Aranthar smiled and bowed graciously. "Delighted to be of service, young Thranduilion. I enjoy discussing weapons. Now that blade I gave you to take South, did it serve you well?"

I remembered that I had last used the blade to sever the bridge's moorings. "Yes, indeed." I replied, "It saved the lives of my companions."

"So glad it could be of service," said Aranthar, bowing again.

"The first thing I need to know is why the Laegrim use stone for the blades of their hunting knives?" I said. I picked up one of my knives and showed it to him. It was similar in construction to the knives used in the uruvae; an antler hilt bound tightly to a bone blade. "Steel is much more effective, and yet I know of no one who uses it for hunting."

Aranthar took the knife from me and fingered the blade. "Eh, Legolas, the Laegrim have used bone blades since before the coming of the Iathrim. Oropher brought steel craft with him when he came, and for a time, the hunting blades were of steel. But with the defeat at Dagorlad, Thranduil refuted the Laegrim way of fighting. He does allow steel daggers and other knives on the battlefield, but this particular style is not permitted. The Laegrim were deeply offended. They returned to their stone knives for hunting and have used them ever since."

"But you have made steel bladed knives?" I asked. He nodded. "Could they be made again, with steel hilts instead of antlers?"

"But who would use them, young prince? Your father has forbidden them on the field, and the Laegrim will not abandon their way of doing things."

"This is a special commission," I explained. "My father has given me Orothador's group to train in the way I see fit. These will be hunting knives, but we will be hunting orcs, not animals. I'll be needing eighty-two of these blades, true and well balanced as soon as possible. Do we have the resources to see it done?"

Aranthar's eyes widened. "You are acting on the King's authority?" I nodded. "Did he send a letter with you? This is a large commission, Legolas, and one that the King would not approve of."

I stood tall and gazed into Arathar's face. "I give you my word that my father has authorized me to train my soldiers in the way I see fit. Is the word of the Prince sufficient for you?"

Aranthar looked at me for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. "Our smiths are working on small tasks these days, with all the troops in the South. There are two forges at the keep. Do you need these blades quite soon? It might take the better part of two months."

"Two weeks would suit me," I said. "What would need to be done to shorten the time frame?"

Aranthar pursed his lips and considered my words for a moment. "I can't promise anything, Legolas. I can convince our two blacksmiths to do the job. Normally we share large jobs with the smiths in the villages, but they are Laegren. They will not be willing to take this commission."

"Why not?" I asked, frustrated.

Aranthar shook his head and shrugged. "It is not done, Legolas. Can I help you in some other way?"

"Get me some of those hunting arrows," I asked Ereglin. I pulled several short arrows from my quiver.

"Look at the differences in the arrowheads," I requested. "The hunting arrowheads are of stone, slender and sleek, made to quickly sever the animal's vital organs." I picked up one of the arrows for the field. It was one of several varieties of steel heads. This one had four blades and was much larger than the hunting arrowhead. "This arrowhead is made for maiming and brutal killing," I explained. "I need to have steel arrowheads made in the form of the hunting arrowheads. We must be prepared to kill quickly and efficiently, with a minimum of suffering."

Aranthar saw at once what I was about. He looked at me soberly. "How many do you need?" he asked.

I closed my eyes and did the calculations in my head. "I need a dozen arrows for each soldier." I explained. "Upwards of five hundred."

There was a low whistle from Ereglin. Aranthar seemed unfazed.

"We run into the same problem here, young prince." He said apologetically. "Stone is for hunting and steel is for fighting. It's been that way for centuries."

"But these arrowheads will be for fighting." I insisted, "Isn't there any way to explain that to the Laegren blacksmiths?"

"I would be a fool to try," said Aranthar. "You'll find the largest smithy in Galenas' village, about an hour south of here. You should speak to Maedor directly."

"One final thing," I said as calmly as I could, pulling the two bows towards me. "I need bows that are more powerful than the short bows. These maim, but are not as efficient at killing as the long bows. I noticed that myself when I was fighting. I'm wondering if we widened the arm, or even thickened it a bit, could we increase the power of the pull?"

"We've made bows this way for centuries!" exclaimed Aranthar. He caught my eyes, "but I can tell such an answer will not suffice. If you leave me these two bows for the day, I'll talk with the craftsmen and we will see what can be done. We can't make them much longer without sacrificing maneuverability. Eh, we'll work on it. We'll do the best we can. Is that all?"

"For now it is," I said, hiding my disappointment. "You have been of great help. Thank you."

The armsmaster pressed his hand to his heart and bowed deeply.

Ereglin gathered up the quivers and knives and we left the armory. The air outside was brisk, but sweet with the freshness of spring. "Let me drop these off at the barracks," said Ereglin. "You would do well to spend some time in the canopy." I just nodded. I was too frustrated for words.

We spent much of the rest of the day running the ropes, perching in one tree and then another. My mind was restless, trying to put together the pieces of the project I'd embarked upon, but nothing seemed to fit. It was late afternoon before I was able to focus. We were near the top of one of the maples that grew near the crest of a hill. From where we sat, I could see out across the forest, which blushed with the light greens of spring. The sky arched like a flawless blue vault above us, unbroken save for two hawks sailing and circling on the wind. I held tightly to the branches and reveled in the gentle swaying of the tree.

"It is about balance," I said to Ereglin at last. He sat on a branch beneath me and had been politely listening to my ramblings all day. "For the Laegrim it is about the Song, the music, the light and the melody that binds it all together. There is movement too, in the trees, in the water, in the animals. Part of the balance is the dance."

"The darkness isn't part of the Song," offered Ereglin. I could tell he was struggling to follow me.

I looked around, letting my eyes rest on the horizon. "The darkness breaks and destroys the harmony of the woods. We can't counter destruction with destruction. The only way to bring back the balance is to fight with what we have. Light, singing, harmony, music, movement; the echoes of the cadences of the woods. Do you remember how the orcs moved?" I asked Ereglin, looking at him at last. "They were awkward and stilted. They moved around their pain, I know that now. But to counter that, we need more harmony, more dance, more music, more light. These are the weapons we have not harnessed yet."

Ereglin rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Eh, Legolas, where are you going with this?"

"Only that I believe that we have only begun to learn how to fight. What would it do to the enemy to hear voices singing in the trees? Many voices, so their exact location would remain hidden. And what if we listen not only for the orcs, but for the breath of what is still good and growing as well? What if we fought not with anger but compassion?"

"I'd say that you are sounding like Istuilalf. Next you'll be wanting to make friends with the enemy."

"No," I said decisively. "The enemy is a great blight that needs to be removed from the forest, and it will involve killing the orcs as well as the other creatures of darkness. But Malenech's way of anger to action does not harness the passion for good that the Laegrim have. I think with Orothador's men we need to develop a whole new way of fighting."

"Legolas, I'm your _meldir_ and I will not gainsay you. But aren't you just asking for trouble? The army has fought in Malenech's way for centuries. He will not look kindly upon this idea of yours."

I looked down at Ereglin and grinned. "He will not know of it until we are fully prepared."

When we gathered at the fire that evening, the light was not gone from the clearing, but cast a warm hue on the warriors as they arrived. I found it remarkable how much more relaxed and happy they seemed. The day's activity had been good for them. Berellin and Tirgon, two of the younger members built the fire and kept it tended for the duration of the evening. I did not hold myself apart, but sat with the warriors, who were relaxed, some sitting, some leaning upon one another, some stretched out on the ground. There was talk of the day, talk of the woods, and some gentle jesting.

After quite some time, Halthor and Thombaran started a simple melody with rich vocal tones, and soon the rest of us joined in. After the harmonics were established and everyone was singing, Thombaran added words, making lyrics up on the spot.  
_  
"When first morning light  
Retires the night  
And the stars fade into the dawn  
There moves in me, a sweet melody  
I will dance and enter the Song  
I'll dance for the night leaving  
I'll dance for the light coming  
I'll dance, for my heart's singing  
A song of its own making  
'Till daylight, fully bright is full come._"

He continued for a time, composing as he went, then looked Condir in the eye and raised his eyebrows. Condir grinned and began stanzas of his own. It was a musical game that was common in the village. I had not played it since returning to my father. Quickly, I tried to compose a stanza in my head, but I was not fast enough. Condir caught me as I was stumbling to pull it together.  
_"Dew beads on the ferns  
Trailing rainbows,_  
oh, but that doesn't rhyme!" The song came tumbling to a halt and everybody laughed, including me.

"You are good at leading, but not so much with singing, little brother," said Orothador. "As you are the one who disrupted the last activity, it is your responsibility to come up with a new one."

I sobered and gazed earnestly at Orothador. "Tell me a story, Orothador."

Orothador's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "What kind of story would you like?"

"If you can, I would like to hear the story of the _uruvae_."

I could feel the silence settle over the warriors. Orothador pursed his lips, a furrow formed between his brows. "The _uruvae_ is a warrior's dance, Legolas. I thought perhaps we could set fighting aside for the evening."

"Storytelling is part of every good evening," I responded. "Some stories are for laughter, others are not. If you would like to wait until another time . . . ?"

Orothador shrugged and smiled wryly. "You and Ereglin were among the few who have seen the _uruvae_ performed publicly," he explained, "Normally, it is a very private thing."

"Was it always that way?" I asked.

"Not always, little brother. Once it was danced by all the Laegrim who served under Oropher."

I was perplexed. "It was created by Oropher?"

Orothador laughed a short, sharp laugh. "Does it look like a Sindar dance? No, Legolas, it is a dance that came from the woods. Have you ever seen the formation of the geese as they fly south for the winter? They fly in unison. The first one breaks the wind, but in doing so, he helps the bird behind him, who helps the bird behind him and so on. The flock is strengthened by flying in formation. We dance in unison for the first dance of the _uruvae_ to remember that we are one, even as we fight we fight together, not as individuals."

"Is that why your group has been allowed to stay together?"

"Your father knows that we are sworn to one another. He knows there are lines that should not be crossed. We have been together since Oropher fell. When we fight, we are one. We've lost very few warriors to death in all of the centuries that we've fought

"And for the second dance?"

"We had no bows and arrows before Oropher. We hunted with our knives. To kill an animal that way, you must come to know it. Not only here," he touched his forehead, "but here." He placed a hand on his heart. "You must speak to its spirit, so that it will allow you to draw close enough to kill it quickly. The first dance we know one another. The second dance, we know the animal that we hunt. The third dance," he said, before I could speak, "helps us to be mindful that we are not only the hunters but also the hunted. We must be prepared to fight unexpectedly, when there are no weapons at hand."

I sat back and considered Orothador's words. My hunch had been correct, the _uruvae_ could easily the key to effective fighting by the Laegrim. It came from within, and was part of their world.

"But why is it no longer danced by all of the Laegrim?" I asked.

Orothador shrugged and looked at me apologetically. "We Laegrim lost many of our brothers at Dagorlad. Thranduil lost his father. I lost my two sons. We were victorious, but broken. We needed to take steps to mend." He looked over the gathered warriors. When he spoke again his voice was rough. "Laegrim are not made for battle; that was made very evident that day." He paused. "I was a captain in Oropher's army, did you know that? Three hundred warriors marched with me to battle. Seventy-six returned. Thranduil took the remaining forces and assigned them to companies of a hundred each. When the captains were chosen, my name was not among them. Thranduil was wise enough to come to me before the names were made public. The other Laegrim captains and I lost our commissions."

"But that was so wrong!" I exclaimed. "You are a leader among our people even now."

"Eh, but I am a wood elf, remember?"

"And yet you still serve under Thranduil? The Laegrim chose to serve under the Sindar?"

"We had no choice, Legolas. We needed to fight well to face the darkness and overcome it. Who was to say that our training was not at fault? We marched with the Sindar and fought with the Sindar. But in the end, we lost a disproportionate number of our own. Malenech had some clear ideas of how to improve our fighting forces, and there were none to gainsay him." Orothador shrugged, "It seemed the right thing at the time. Perhaps things would have gone differently if Thranduil was not so lost in his grief, but he followed the guidance of the Sindar captains."

"But the situation in the South has been grim since before I was born. Surely my father would have reconsidered his course of action since then?"

"Your father doesn't act alone, little brother. He must listen to the wisdom of his captains. He must consider their words if he wants their loyalty. But he may not totally agree with them."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well," said Orothador, "Now he's gone and listened to you."


	49. Chapter 50

The next day I was gratified to see how much more relaxed the troops seemed. When I entered the clearing to meet them in the quiet light of dawn, not one of them bowed, but many came forward to touch me on the shoulder. If I had second thoughts about teaching the Laegren way, their joy laid my fears to rest.

"You have been three years without singing," I said, standing beside the boulder. "And your hearts need time to heal. Go and find a place in the canopy to sing, really sing for the day that has come. When you are done, gather your long bows and your knives and go hunting. I've told Heledirn to expect extra meat for tonight's supper."

"Will we meet again at the fire?" asked Berellin. "Tirgon and I would be willing to build one for you."

I shook my head. "Tonight, after you have sung and listened and hunted, I want you to dance the _uruvae._ We'll dance it regularly now, although we need to bend it to help us when we are fighting the orcs."

"When are you going to make us work?" teased Condir. "So far you've only asked us to do things that bring us pleasure. How will that destroy the enemy?"

I smiled and met his eyes. "Renewing your ties with the woods feeds you. I intend to fatten you up a bit before making you sweat." I didn't mention that I was also waiting for the proper tools to fight with.

Thombaran was our teacher for the _uruvae_ that morning. Condir had a short wooden drum with a wide goatskin head. He sat with it between his knees, leaning his long torso against the trunk of a beech tree. The five of us stood in a circle, barefoot and bare backed with elm sticks for knives. I glanced at my companions. Doron was eager and ready, standing on the balls of his feet as he did when he was excited. Talfil and Brethilas had natural grace. They held the sticks lightly in their hands. Brethilas was smiling with anticipation. Ereglin gripped his sticks tightly. He was the least coordinated of my group, and tended to worry.

"You began last time with the opening note and the first few moves," said Thombaran when all was ready. "Today we will work on the basic pattern of the first dance. Keep in mind that it is only a pattern. The dance itself is organic and can shift and change at the leader's whim. I'll join the circle so that you can follow me. We'll begin dancing to the rhythm of the drum."

We practiced for most of the morning. The basic steps were easy, but the overlapping steps, where an arm or a leg or a knife crossed the space where another had been were challenging. My own dancing was erratic. I found it hard to work on my own moves while being mindful of others. I could tell Ereglin was growing impatient. Even with his dancing background, Talfil managed to tangle his limbs with Brethilas. At one point Doron hit Ereglin with his stick hard enough to leave a welt. Ereglin glared at him. I knew that with a word I could end the practice for the day.

Condir saved us. He rested his hands on the drum and spoke up. "They need to listen more, Thombaran. Make them stop and sing together for awhile. I think they should be good for at least another hour or so of practice."

I groaned to myself. We were all off balance, and I saw no way to return, but I dutifully rested my arms on the shoulders of my companions as we prepared to sing. Thombaran opened with some soothing melodies that we all knew and then moved to some of the livelier songs that we had sung at campfire with the other warriors. We started singing in unison, but soon moved our voices to sing in harmonies. I could feel my muscles relaxing as my voice and breathing came into sync with my companions. When he saw that we were bound together by the music, Thombaran drew the singing to a close.

"Drop arms," he instructed, as the last note echoed into the clearing. "Close your eyes and listen to one another. Work at it until you are breathing in unison." We obeyed. With my eyes closed, I was free from distractions. I listened and allowed my breathing to merge with the breathing of my companions. When we were all breathing together, Thombaran began the opening tone of the dance. It was a low tone. I could feel it resonate in my chest. The rich sound reverberated in my ears. All at once I could feel the music, feel the breathing, feel the heartbeats of the others. As we added our voices to Thombaran's, the tone strengthened and became almost tangible. Our music was one, our breathing was one, I could almost feel our heartbeats beating in unison. All at once, I knew that I could dance with my companions. We were one, and it felt deep and rich and powerful.

Condir marked the opening rhythm of the dance with five sharp strokes. We opened our eyes and took our sticks from the ground. He set a tempo for us like a slow heartbeat. We began dancing to his beat, but soon the drum faded as the rhythm of the dance took over. Our movements drew from our breathing, emerged from our heartbeats, embraced our souls. I immersed myself in the cadence and gave myself to the dance. Smoothly, our sticks sliced the air. Flawlessly, we twisted and turned. As our hearts beat faster, the tempo of the dance increased. I felt a great joy surging from deep within. I knew at last what the _uruvae_ could do.

-0-0-0-0-00

Orothador and I went to the blacksmith's village the next day. We took the wide road south through the beech woods. The understory was in full spring color. Trails of wild geranium surrounded the deep purple trillium. The ferns were just starting to unfurl their fronds, adding a touch of gentle green. High above, the birds sang in the canopy. I could sense the lives of many small animals scurrying on the ground below. My heart sang as we walked.

We arrived in the village just before noon. The smithy stood alone, backing on to a sheer granite face that protruded from the hillside. The vegetation had been cleared from a wide swath surrounding the building. The front of the smithy was open, revealing a wall covered with an array of hammers, mallets, handles and wedges. Anvils of several sizes rested on heavy stands. The furnace itself was lit, but the great leather bellows were unattended.

"Eh, Orothador! I thought you were in the South." The voice came from behind me. I spun around to see the smith approaching. He was grinning, his brown eyes twinkling with pleasure. He wore no shirt; the heavy muscles that he had developed at the forge gave him a solid, strong demeanor. His black hair was long, pulled back in a single tail.

Orothador returned the smile and grasped his arm. "We are here on the King's business, Maedor," he said. "Allow me to present Prince Legolas, the Laegren prince."

Maedor placed his hand on his heart and bowed formally. "What can I do for you?" he asked as he rose.

I resisted the temptation to look for Orothador for support. "I need enough arrowheads to arm forty one warriors as soon as possible," I said.

Maedor shrugged. "That's not a problem. We've got very little work to do with all the troops in the South. There are two others I can call on to help with the work. What style of broadhead are you looking for? Some of them do take more time."

I pulled a long arrow from my quiver. "Not a broadhead. That's too wide. I need something like this hunting bodkin," I explained. "The same size and shape only made of steel."

Maedor narrowed his eyes and pulled back. "That shape is for hunting, not for the field. Stone is the way of the Laegrim. I will not betray our people by making stone into steel."

"But these will be for our warriors to use in the field. They won't be used near the keep, I promise. I want our Laegren warriors to fight well. You can help."

"You are the prince, but you speak like a rebel. It's been many years since our style of fighting has been welcome in the field." he said, lowering his voice. "Does the King know what you are about?"

"He commissioned me to teach the warriors to hunt orcs. This is part of that effort."

Maedor cast a sidelong glance at Orothador who simply nodded.

"We've waited a long time for this," said Maedor quietly. He gazed at me intently. "Forty one warriors, you say? If you have the King's approval, it will be done."

I noticed that Maedor didn't bow as we departed. He touched my shoulders instead.

As the days folded into weeks, my training progressed. We gathered every morning to lay out the day's work. My four companions and I spent a great deal of time learning the_ uruvae _and many more hours dancing with the warriors, bending the dance to fit the work of killing orcs. I found that it was critical that we knew how to listen to one another. I envisioned my warriors fighting in teams of two or three with the same skill and precision that they demonstrated in the dance. It was important for them to listen to the spirits of the animals. Consequently, we spent many days hunting in groups of two or three. Heledirn said that he had seldom had as much fine game as my warriors brought in.

We also spent time learning to fight with our knives. To my surprise, my warriors wanted to set aside their swords in favor of a two handed approach with the knives. We practiced daily, learning from the skills of Orothador and Seron, and the other warriors who had fought that way under Oropher.

The day our arrowheads were ready, it rained a good soaking rain. The sky rumbled with thunder, and the pathways turned to mud. We took a break from our daily routine to sit in the dining pavilion crafting new arrows to fit the bows that Aranthar had made for us. The new bows were fine weapons. They were recurved for archery, made of oak and spruce. Although harder to pull than our normal bows, after a week or two of working with them, the warriors liked them quite well.

We were due to return to the field the day after Midsummer. I looked forward to the festivities with great anticipation. My troops had worked hard and were well trained. With their new weapons, they would be deadly in a fight. They only needed a venue to demonstrate what they had learned.

Over time, Orothador and I had developed the habit of going to the rocky summit late in the evenings to talk. Through him, I came to know each of the warriors better, their strengths and weaknesses, and something of their personal lives as well. I loved sitting beneath the stars, listening to his voice. I knew that he was wise and infinitely older than I, but he never patronized me, although he was not averse to giving me advice if he felt I was going in the wrong direction.

"What would it be like," I asked one night as we sat enjoying the starlight, "if the _uruvae _was not a private thing? What would happen if we danced it publically? Would there be any harm done?"

Orothador gave me a sidelong glance. "You want us to dance it for the Midsummer Celebration, eh, Legolas?"

I wrapped my arms around my knees and shrugged. "Is that such a bad idea?"

Orothador chuckled, "Are you out to change the whole world, young one, or just your corner of it? The _uruvae_ is a private dance because we don't want to offend Thranduil or the captains. We are sworn to fight under them, and they do not trust dancing for warriors. Dancing the _uruvae_ would be seen as a challenge, even an act of open rebellion. It cannot be done lightly."

"But it can be done," I protested. "I have been commissioned to teach these warriors a new way to fight. What better way to show the people what they have learned, to see that the Laegrim are fierce fighters in their own right, on their own terms?"

"That's just the problem, Legolas. They would see and they would believe in something that has not been done for centuries. It would mark the dawn of a new era for the Laegrim. Your ideas have not been proven yet, and to stir up the people prematurely is unwise. It would create unrest, and that is never good."

I could feel the defiance growing in my heart. "There is a time to step forward and a time to step back," I agreed. "It may be premature to show the uruvae to the people, but what would it do for our warriors?"

I looked at Orothador, awaiting his response. The moonlight was bright, casting odd bits of light and shadow on his face. I could just barely see his eyes gazing at me. He pursed his lips and thought for a moment before answering.

"If they were to dance," he said at last, "it would validate what they have been doing these past months. It would build their confidence and strengthen their resolve. It would say to the people that dancing is the good way to prepare to fight. It would make them feel strong."

I smiled. "I am the _Aran Nelyar_ for Midsummer. Will your warriors dance for me?"

There was no response for a long moment. I bit my lip, wondering if I should rephrase the question. At last Orothador nodded. "We will dance for you, Legolas. Perhaps it is time for a change."

Midsummer day dawned bright and warm. I had cancelled training for the day, and the warriors wasted no time in immersing themselves in the festivities at hand. The day itself was filled with contests, good fellowship and good food. Berellin and Tirgon did well for themselves in the races. Thombaran, Talfil, Condir and a half dozen other warriors used their new bows and placed well with the archery. Brethilas enjoyed himself singing songs and telling stories. I wandered around, mingling with Talagand , my music teacher, and Taenor, who had brought his trade to the clearing for the day. Gaelin and Aegiriel spent a lot of time fawning over Ereglin, but they had kind words for me as well. All in all, I had too little time to visit with everyone I knew and far too much food to eat. As the sun began to set, I looked forward to the evening to come.

Eventually, the bonfire was lit, and we were called to the season of silence. The crowds gathered around the fire and slowly stilled. When all was quiet, the large vat of _malengalas_ was brought forth on its wooden sledge. I stepped forward. I bent my head to accept the crown of the _Aran Nelyar_ and then accepted the goblet of_ malengalas_. The brew was bitter, but not nearly as strong as it would be by the end of the evening. While the rest of the people were drinking it, I slipped away to take my perch in a huge oak that stood near the clearing.

Daylight dimmed into darkness, and among those who had come to the celebration, not one word was spoken. I waited until the light had faded past the reds of the sunset. I waited until the first star began to shine. I waited until the silence grew rich and thick about me. When the time was right, I lifted my voice in song.

The last time I had sung, as the _Aran Nelyar_, Talagand had directed my voice. This night I determined the music would be sung in the Laegren fashion. I reached far into my past and sang as I had not sung since I had lived in the village. Single notes, echoed and rose into the evening sky. I welcomed the sunset, welcomed the darkness, welcomed the stars as they appeared. After setting a simple melody, my voice was joined by another sweet tenor. Several more joined in. One at a time, new voices were added, until all were singing with me. We sang for minutes, or perhaps an hour or more, embracing the turning of the season. Midsummer was the height of the light and warranted celebration, but we were also mindful of the shorter days to come. The music ebbed and flowed. It filled the moments and then receded. I sang until the music was done.

I climbed down from the tree and was met by many of my people. They came to me quietly, murmuring their thanks. Some bowed, some touched my shoulders. I touched as many of them as I could. I made my way to the vat of _malengalas_ and took a second cup.

As everyone else drank, I was led to an ornate chair set upon a platform where I could preside over the ceremonies of the evening. Ereglin, Brethilas, Doron and Talfil joined me there.

The dancing was first.

There was the dance of the dawn, with fifty graceful women dressed in flowing gowns. Their hair was braided and flowed to their waists, shimmering in the light of the fire. They danced to the song of wooden flutes, bending and swaying, creating intricate patterns as they followed in lines or twirled to new places. The moves were smooth and gracious. Lifting arms and hands to the sky, they gently reflected the joy of a new day dawning.

They were followed by the dances of the day. The drums thrummed and the flutes trilled. The dancers were paired, men and women. They danced with exacting expression. Every movement of the hand, finger, head and toe was precisely and eloquently phrased. Teams would emerge from the body of dancers to provide vignettes. The choreography was complex and wonderfully rendered. For one dance, a wide scarlet ribbon was unfurled. A short, limber figure emerged as the goat. The task was to get him to cross the rope, with the help of two elves. Then the ribbon became a path. Two teams of dancers faced one another and had to pass each other to get to the other end without leaving the path. The ribbon was lifted and became the spine of a huge dragon, outlined by dancers. My favorite was a parody of the formal Sindarin dances done for Midwinter. For that, there was no ribbon at all.

As they were finishing the last dance of the set, my companions disappeared, only to emerge again with Orothador's warriors. They were not covered with woad; that was a tradition we had dismissed, but their backs were bare, and they each held two shining knives of steel. They assembled themselves into formation, seven by six, with two spaces vacant. After they assembled they stood silent, poised and ready for the dance to come. Not a muscle moved. The crowd was still. Waiting. Nothing happened.

With a start I realized that the warriors' eyes were all upon me. I opened my mouth to speak, and then noticed two steel bladed knives resting at Orothador's feet.

Quickly, I took off my tunic and boots and set my crown on the chair. I accepted the knives and stepped down to join with my warriors.

We danced that night for joy. We danced that night for strength. We danced and the music flowed in us and around us and through us. We were many and brave. We were one and strong. I listened and I knew where I was, I knew where the others were. All was done without thinking, without visioning. I was caught up in the music of the heartbeats, of the breathing, of the movement. Knives flashed and spun, my whole body was engaged. The dance flowed like a river through the narrow gorges of the first dance, through the rapids of the second dance, through the wild waterfall of the third dance. I lost myself in dancing and found myself as never before. I was acutely aware of everything that was happening and I was filled with dazzling joy. I was Laegrin, a warrior and one with the woods.


	50. Chapter 51

_Hope you enjoy this week's chapter. Feedback is always welcome!_

When we left the keep for the South, we were sent off by a gathering of Laegrim that rivaled the crowds at Midsummer. We could not hold formation as we crossed the yard; there were so many who wanted to touch our arms and shoulders. We wore the green and brown of the soldiers, but our feet were bare and we wore no swords. Twin hunting knives rested in their sheaths between our shoulder blades. One evening we had come up with new braid arrangements that pulled our hair back from our faces. It was no better than the Sindar way, but it marked us as Laegren fighters. We marched with fierce joy.

The miles fell away beneath our feet. Along much of the road the trees arched high over our heads, shading the path, save for the dappled sunlight that came through the branches. The ground had long since retired the spring plants; we saw thick bunches of purple periwinkle interspersed with tiny galium. Occasional lady slippers could be seen in the shadows. White fungus marked the dark wood of fallen logs, and the chirps and chattering of birds and squirrels came frequently to our ears. The rich smells of the midsummer forest surrounded us. We did not sing the Sindar songs as we traveled, but Laegrin songs that were sung in my grandfather's time, when the Laegrem were allowed to fight in their own way.

We made good time, and on the eve of the eighth night, the last before crossing the river, Berellin and Tirgon built us a large campfire. Halthor cooked a fine meal, and we savored the last of the wine that we had brought from the north. After supper, no one seemed inclined to clean up from the meal. We sat and relaxed and let the glow of the long evening settle around us. The conversation ebbed and flowed. We joked and reminisced about the summer. It was in the silence that occasionally overtakes conversation, that Galas expressed his concern.

"I wonder how it will go for us in the South."

No one spoke for a moment. "Eh, Galas, why worry what tomorrow will bring?" Condir lifted his mug. "Enjoy life while you can." His voice was bright, but I could see from the expressions on the others' faces that he had hit a nerve.

I glanced towards Orothador, but he just looked at me expectantly. Setting down my cup, I rose to my feet, and looking at all the faces before me, searched for something to say. "Tomorrow we cross to the South, and in many ways nothing has changed. You used to fight with the blade and the bow, and you shall do so now. You fought with strength and determination and you shall do so now. You fought for the life, the heart, the spirit and the Song of the woods, and you shall do so now." I paused, waiting for the words to come to me. "But you've been under a shroud, hiding beneath the ways and the mores of the Sindar. Your ways have been hidden, your listening has been hidden, your dance and your songs have all been hidden. You've been bound by the ways that are not your own." There was murmuring and nods of agreement.

"This summer has brought you nothing new, it has merely restored to you what was rightfully yours in the first place. You are wood elves and the woods are yours to nurture and to love and to wrest from the hold of the enemy. You will fight in your own way, in your own time, by your own strength and wisdom. I have given you nothing new this summer. I have simply restored you to what you have always been. If I've done anything, I've given you yourself." The fire crackled, but not a muscle moved. "Tomorrow will come, and will you fight?"

"Yes!" came the reply in a ragged chorus.

"Will you enter the Song and lean on the dance and listen?"

"Yes!" Those who had been reclining sat up. The rest sat a little taller.

"Then that is your task," I said. "Responsibility for the training you received will fall on me. I promised my father that I would provide him with warriors trained to fight harder, and kill orcs more effectively, and I plan to deliver. Just give me your best in the days to come. Be yourself. That's all I ask." I sat down again, took up my cup and drank deeply. I could hear the warriors shifting.

"Eh, Legolas!" called out Seron after a moment. "Your words are good. We will follow you." The laughter and cheering that followed spoke to my heart.

That night I set a double watch because of our proximity to the river. I needn't have worried. There were no disturbances, save for one. It came in the depths of the night when even the crickets had stilled their thrumming. I opened my eyes to find a dark figure huddled not two feet from my blanket. The moonlight shone silver on his shoulders. His hair was unkempt and tousled from sleep. He sat, rocking slightly as he held his blanket around himself. When he heard me move, he lifted his head.

"Doron!" I whispered, so as not to wake the others. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry, Legolas. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Is something wrong?" I asked. I got up and sat beside him.

Doron shook his head and then paused. "Well, yes. There is something I need to tell you before we cross the river." He stopped and sighed, "Do you remember what happened, what I did when the orcs were there?"

"We were under attack," I said. "You left the clearing and then shouted to draw the orcs to yourself."

Doron shook his head vehemently, "That's only part of the truth, Legolas. Everyone else stayed and fought the enemy, but I didn't. I saw the orcs and became frightened. I ran from them. I don't remember how it happened. They were there, and the next thing I knew I was at the other side of the clearing. Do you understand? If I had stayed and done my part, we all could have escaped, but I ran, and you were captured, and shards, what they did to you! You were captured," hissed Doron. His voice was rough. "I deserted my post. I was too cowardly to fight."

I was stunned. The thought of Doron being anything but brave was unconscionable. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. "You have carried this burden since that day?"

Doron nodded.

I looked at the night sky, trying to find the right words. "Desertion is a harsh word," I said at last. "When you came to yourself you turned and did the right thing. We could not have survived in that clearing. There were too many orcs. Your actions probably saved the lives of your companions. I wouldn't call that desertion."

"But you were captured," protested Doron.

"But I would have been dead," I responded. "Doron, you just panicked. I don't hold that against you, and I don't blame you at all for my being captured. It happened. It's over. Can you just let it go?"

"I can try." He rubbed his face with his hand. "But what if it happens again?"

I sat back and put my hands on my knees. I needed something that would restore Doron's confidence."I know that you usually pair with Brethilas. But for the next few days, I'd like you to partner with me. I'll watch your back and you'll watch mine. I think you'll do a good job."

"You'd trust me to do that? After I left the field? Legolas are you crazy?"

"Lower your voice, Doron. I'm not crazy. Just promise me that you'll stand by me."

Our eyes met. In the moonlight, it was hard to read Doron's face. Doubt? Fear? Determination? He finally dropped his eyes and nodded. "I will do it," he said.

I wasn't sure what kind of reception we would find in the meadow by the river, so I had my men in formation for the last few miles. We topped the ridge and were partway down the hillside before I spotted the campfire of soldiers sent to receive us. There were six of them sitting around the fire. They quickly rose and stood at attention as we approached.

The officer who met me was Sindarin. I could see his eyes flickering over my men as he drew near. He stopped in front of me and bowed.

"My name is Cunnethril." He smiled, but there was a warning in his eyes. "We've come to take you to the interior. I can see there have been some changes made here. I should let you know that Lainethir won't allow those knives in the field. They can leave them here. Where are their swords?"

"Well met." I said smoothly, inclining my head. "Thank you for your concern, but my warriors are battle ready. We will answer to my father. Will we see him soon?"

"His company will be joining Lainethir's soon. There's a horde of orcs headed this way. They're coming up from the southeast. New blood, we hear. I don't know how the enemy breeds them so fast. Breeds them and trains them and sets them loose. Thormor's been called in for this too. It's going to be quite the battle."

My warriors stood waiting while Cunnethril's men broke camp. The bridge had been restored and we were across the river within the hour. In the few months I had been away, I had not forgotten the desolate pall that hovered over the land in this part of the woods. I had forgotten the stale almost rotten stench that permeated the place. I tried hard not to wrinkle my nose.

For most of the day we headed due south, deep into the foothills of the Mountains of Mirkwood. Without exception, each and every tree was blighted or disfigured in some way. The miasma of darkness decreased the power of the sun, so the growth was minimal and the plants were malnourished. We walked through acres of woods where the old growth had succumbed entirely. Great trunks lay scattered across the landscape, mute testimony to the damage being done. Younger, smaller trees, ash, birch, and laurel had taken hold in these areas, but they were scrawny and their canopies sparse.

Cunnethril's men led the way, talking quietly amongst themselves. My warriors followed, still in formation. I encouraged them to listen as they walked. "You have listened well in the healthy woods," I said. "Now get a feel for what this forest has to say. The darkness is not as likely to harm you if you are prepared for it."

For myself, I found that the listening was hard to do. It was though the woods were weeping with deep groans, a sorrow too profound for words. An undulating flow of discomfort and grief seemed to permeate the land and all that it contained. There were the spirits of animals still amongst the trees. I sensed rabbits, weasels, foxes and moles. There were even some birds. As we marched, I caught my first glimpses of some of the dark animals of Mirkwood. These were in the grip of the enemy and were completely black. Birds, butterflies and the occasional squirrel could be seen, folding into the shadows without a trace. When I listened for them, there was a dimness, like a hole in the fabric of the woods. I felt a great sorrow and grief, as though I had lost someone I loved.

Most of our walking was uphill. The way became steeper as the day went on. We stopped for lunch by a copse of maples. We lit no fire but made due with water and waybread. I looked up into the arms of one of the maples and saw a latticework of ropes high above.

"We've got most of the mountain paths strung with ropes," said Cunnethril, following my gaze. "We're headed for the pass where the orcs plan to cross to this side of the mountains. I'm guessing they'll cross at sunset. They avoid the light when they can, but they need enough light to see while fighting, much as we do."

"Do they know that we'll be waiting for them?" I asked.  
Cunnethril frowned. "It doesn't matter much if they know of us or not. They are canny enough to plan for that possibility."

"How much longer until we get there?"

"We're a good four hours out," he said. "We'll get there in time, I think."

The land we walked through was becoming progressively steeper. We saw few wild creatures and the occasional tree we passed was huge and gnarled, shaped by the wind as much as the darkness. I took a moment to look behind me. Far down and away the forest lay spread out like a cloak over the rugged land. The colors were muted and subdued. I could almost see the tinge of darkness that lay like a great cloud over the trees. Away in the distance the river shone silver in the afternoon sun. Beyond that lay lands still unfettered by the enemy. They seemed brighter somehow, but still touched by the grimness that dwelt nearby.

A sentry met us while we were still some ways from the pass. He greeted Cunnethril casually, as though they were great friends. He bowed formally to me, and looked curiously at my warriors.

"Lainethir is expecting you," he reported.

"My father isn't here yet?"

"No, and Thormor hasn't arrived either. Lainethir has a lot to plan for. Word has it that the orcs will attempt the crossing tonight. But that's unofficial word," he apologized, "I'm just telling you what I've heard."

"The troops are usually right about such things," said Cunnethril to me, "but I'll be damned if I know how they do it."

It was nearly an hour later when we arrived at Lainethir's camp. From there, the pass was visible as a narrow gap in the peaks. The road rose steeply to meet it. Defending such terrain would be impossible. Our warriors would have to be in the pass, or just through it to manage any kind of defense. Fighting uphill would be the death of us for sure.

I had expected a sizable company, but I was disappointed. Lainethir had lost a third of his company when I had taken Orothador's men, and it appeared that the deficit had not been made up in full. There were sixty or seventy soldiers in the camp, no more. They were taking their ease around campfires. Some were sitting in small circles playing hrithca or bones. The talking was low and subdued, as though they were waiting for something.

As we approached, Lainethir detached himself from a group of his soldiers and came towards us . He looked appraisingly at my warriors as we drew near. His countenance grew dark. He did not bow to me, instead he turned to Cunnethril .

"Ah, Cunnethril, you have found our lost soldiers," he said a bit loudly. "They have flown far, but perhaps they have come home again. Did you have any problems on the road?"

"No Captain," reported Cunnethril. "They were there right on time. We've spent the day in travel."

"You're here in time for the evening meal," said Lainethir. "I hope you have no issue with waybread and water?"

Cunnethril laughed. "No, Captain. We're well acquainted with both. May I dismiss the men?"

Lainethir nodded. "Tell them to take their ease. They may be called on for some action tonight."

Cunnethril bowed and dismissed his men. My warriors stood solid in formation.

"Well, Legolas, you have brought your warriors back to the battlefield, trained for listening to the enemy?"

"Yes, Captain," I said, but I didn't like his tone .

"I don't know what you've been doing with them for the past three months, but I can only hope they are not too far out of training. We are going to see some action here tonight, and so far we've seen nothing of Thormor's company, nor your father's. Come with me. I want to show you something. Leave your men. This will only take a few minutes."

I nodded to Orothador. They were tired, but they were committed to stand in formation until dismissed.

We hiked the short trail to the pass. When we crested the hill, I had to stop for a minute to catch my breath. Spread before me, in the warm afternoon sun of midsummer, was desolation and destruction as far as the eye could see. The woods on the far side of the pass had suffered under the darkness far longer than the trees I had seen during the day. The cloud of dimness moved slowly, almost as a wash of murky water over the forest below. The whole tableau echoed a sense of sorrow and decay. I wanted to weep, but Lainethir called my attentions away.

"This is the enemy we fight tonight," he was saying. "Look and see what we are dealing with."

Far below me, amongst the trees, I could see tiny figures walking and moving about.

"There are roughly two hundred orcs down there, not as many as we were led to believe. We'll be outnumbered, but without Thranduil and Thormor, I have no choice. My men have faced tougher odds before. I'm guessing the orcs will attack near sunset, to get the fighting out of the way before dark. We'll be outnumbered, but we will prevail."

"But I have brought my forty one," I offered.

"Barefoot? And with primitive knives and no swords? No, Legolas. Your men will not fight tonight. They are effectively unarmed and unready. I will not have their deaths on my conscience. You will stay at the camp tonight. Eru willing, you will be safe."

"There is no way to defend the pass with seventy two warriors."

"I can't let you fight, Legolas. Your father took thirty six of my best fighters, and you've returned them to me barefoot and unarmed. What would you have me do? Send them to their deaths on the front lines?"

"In the battle at least!" I retorted. "We've been training for three months, in listening, in singing, in fighting the Laegrim way. You must let them fight, Lainethir. It is what they are trained to do."

Lainethir just shook his head and walked away.

I followed Lainethir in silence. There was a lump in my throat and I couldn't think clearly. Lainethir was a captain in my father's forces, and I didn't hold any ranking.

I crossed the camp and stood in front of my troops. "Get some dinner," I said. "We've been ordered to stay in camp tonight. Olweth and Nelthor, you'll take first watch. Report to me at sundown for more orders."

I could not contain my dismay. I walked to one of the maples nearby and leaned against the trunk. It did not offer me succor, but trembled with the darkness that it had absorbed. Orothador came up behind me and laid a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Things are not well with you, little brother," he said.

"We need to fight, Orothador. Lainethir showed me the forces that they will be dealing with tonight and there are so many of them."

"What did he say?" asked Orothador.

"You can guess," I responded. "It wasn't a vote of confidence for the Laegrim."

"What do you think the best thing is to do?" he asked after a moment.

"I am bound to obey his orders," I responded. "He's a captain and outranks me."

"That's not what you said to Cunnethril this morning," said Orothador.

I looked at him. Then it dawned on me. "What I said to Cunnethril this morning is that I answered to my father."

Orothador nodded. "I'm not a leader, Legolas. I'm just a wood elf. But what would your father have us do?"

"He would have us fight, Orothador. I know he would. He would have us fight."


	51. Chapter 52

I strode from the camp in an effort to contain my anger. Lainethir had no business disgracing my warriors that way. Ignoring the danger, I ran up the road to the pass. The way was rocky and barren, cutting deeply through two shoulders of the mountain that towered stark and foreboding on either side. I stopped and lifted my eyes to the ridge high above me. There was an ancient oak, gnarled and defiant. It was cloaked in the dark greens of midsummer, a clear reproach to the darkness at hand. I took a deep breath and calmed myself. If I was to change Lainethir's mind, I'd have to speak words of reason.

I climbed over the crest of the pass, hid behind a cleft in the rocks, and peered off to the south. In front of me was a wide gravel road that led down through a small boulder field to a grove of stunted oak and elm. From where I stood, I could discern ropes strung in the canopy of those trees. The ropes were lower than I would have liked, barely fifteen feet from the ground, but the broad trunks and thick branches would offer secure cover as we fought. Beyond and below the woods stretched a wide meadow that the orcs would have to cross uphill before reaching our archers. With luck, we could take many of them down before they got to the trees.

My gaze wandered to the woods far below the meadow, where previously I had seen the orcs. They were still moving about. Could I sense their spirits from such a distance? I closed my eyes and listened. At first, I was disturbed by the intensity of the darkness on the far side of the pass. It curled over and around me, testing my defenses. Resisting the urge to panic, I set my jaw and concentrated, refusing to let it in. When I was balanced again, I felt for the spirits of the animals nearby. There was nothing, save for the hollow nothingness of the dark animals that served the enemy. I furrowed my brow and envisioned myself drawing close to the orc encampment. The darkness grew wider and deeper, ever more foreboding. Yet amidst the darkness I could sense the nuances of the orcs. It reminded me of listening to a herd of deer in the woods near home. I could not discern individual spirits; but the spirits were there, collectively telling me of their presence. Suddenly I detected a glimmer of spirits. I smiled and opened my eyes. My training had not been in vain.

When I got back to camp, Lainethir's soldiers were preparing for battle. Bow strings were being checked, swords were made ready. Conversation was muted. Occasionally I heard laughter, sharp and quickly cut short.

My own warriors had congregated around a pair of weathered oak trees, and were shifting restlessly, looking at Lainethir's soldiers with ill-concealed envy. Orothador and Seron circulated among them, speaking quietly to still their unrest.

Decisively, I headed across the camp to where Lainethir was giving orders to a cluster of soldiers. I stood right next to him before he finally turned and acknowledged my presence. I did not bow.

"Yes, young prince?"

"I have come to offer again the support of my warriors. I have seen the battlefield. I know that we could fight well there. You must let us fight!"

Lainethir frowned and his gaze brimmed with tightly controlled anger. When he spoke, his voice was low and urgent. "First, I am aware that your father permitted you to train these soldiers, but he is not here and does not command the field. I do. Second, you were not there at Dagorlad, young one. You have no idea what a pathetic excuse for fighters the Laegrim were. They were not just overtaken in the field, they were slaughtered. You may think you have done your friends a favor, to train them in the way of the Laegrim, but as far as I'm concerned, they will all die a bloody death if they fight like that, and I'm not going to allow that to happen! I care for those men, much more than you will ever know! My orders stand. If the enemy breaks through, you'll have your fight to the death, but I will not send them into battle tonight! You are dismissed!"

Was that truly what had happened at Dagorlad? Suddenly I understood his misgivings. Stunned, I took a deep breath, and then bowed formally. What if he was right? What if I was sending them all to their deaths? My confidence shattered, and lay like broken crockery at my feet. It was all I could do to maintain my dignity as I walked away.

As I approached my warriors, their conversations stopped. They looked at me hopefully. Frustrated, I rubbed my face with my hand.

"Be seated," I requested. The company shifted and grumbled a bit, but they obeyed. I closed my eyes and tried to center myself.

"The captain has known each of you for many years," I began. "He just related to me how very deeply he cares for each one of you. He fought with most of you at Dagorlad. He saw many of your loved ones die. He does not want a repeat of what happened. You will not fight tonight."

There was nothing but a somber silence.

"But what do _you_ say, Legolas?" asked Seron. "You are our leader."

What should I say? The bright prospects of summer training dimmed with the thought that I might be leading my warriors to their deaths. Lainethir's words were true. The Laegrim had been slaughtered.

"Legolas?"

I crossed my arms. I could play the leader no longer. "What if it is true?" I whispered. "What if your training will just endanger you?"

"Come and sit with us, little brother," said Orothador, extending his hand. I stepped forward. The warriors made a space for me in their midst. I sat among them as I had once long ago when I was young. Their strength and kindness surrounded me. I pulled my knees to my chest and put my head in my hands. They touched my shoulders and rubbed my back. I was surrounded by their love, surrounded by their compassion. I was reminded of the times when I sought comfort as a child in the village. It was much the same.

"We are not fools," said Orthador. "If you had tried to lead us along paths that we did not believe in, we would not have followed you. You gave us something that we had desired for a very long time. You put feet to our dreams, Legolas, and for that we thank you."

I could not look at him. I was still lost in my own misery.

"The question here is not what Lainethir believes. He is a captain with a lot of experience, but he does not know everything. The question is, after you have lived what you have lived, and done what you have done, what do you believe? Was the spirit of the orc real? Do we win by being ourselves, by fighting as Laegrim and not as Sindarin? Legolas, what does your experience tell you? "

I gazed into Orothador's eyes, finding trust and reassurance there. I looked around at the warriors who surrounded me. They were calm, waiting patiently for me to answer. I stared at my feet.

"The orc's spirit was there," I said at last. "Of that I am sure. As to the rest, who can say? This summer I have seen your confidence grow; I have seen your joy increase. I've learned so much of what it means to be Laegrim. If the people of the woods cannot save the woods, then who can? The Sindar are good fighters, but they are not of the woods. I believe that the Laegrim will overcome the darkness, and that we will do so by fighting in our own way."

"Eh," said Orothador, "then why do you doubt?"

0-0-0-0

Lainethir's troops assembled for combat with quick efficiency. They stood in formation, proud and tall. Save for some surreptitious sidelong glances, they ignored their comrades who were being left behind. They marched from camp with a sharp cadence, their boots making a dry, hollow sound against the rocky ground.

After they left, I set Condir and Tirgon to keep watch at the pass, and called the rest of my group to gather under the trees. It took some prodding, but I was able to coax Halthor to lead us in singing. He did not choose happy songs, but ones with complex melodies and haunting harmonies that reflected the disquiet in our hearts. Several of the warriors did not sing at all, but restlessly paced the perimeter of the camp.

The late afternoon slipped into early evening. The heat of the day did not abate. If anything, it grew hotter and more sultry. Above the pass and to the west, a broad band of dark clouds began to gather. The sky above was empty, save for a flock of black birds winging their way northward over the pass.

The singing dwindled and came to a close.

I found myself gazing frequently at the road to the pass. It remained silent and clear. I was just going to speak to Orothador about finding something, anything, to occupy the troops, when a small figure could be seen running down the path towards us. It was Tirgon. He carried no weapons; his long strides moved him forward in a smooth rhythm. As he approached, I heard his rough breathing and saw the sweat running down his face. He bowed quickly to me, then bent, with his hands on his knees, to catch his breath.

"Legolas, you've got to come quickly. Condir and I just sighted a huge group of orcs coming from the south. They aren't here yet, but Lainethir's troops will be vastly outnumbered."

"Are you sure of what you've seen, Tirgon?" I asked.

He nodded, "Condir has gone to warn Lainethir."

I bit my lip. It did not sit well with me to go against a direct order, but I couldn't just stand by and let Lainethir's soldiers get run over. I swept my gaze over my warriors. "We've waited long enough," I said decisively. "Now we fight!"

A rugged cheer went up from my men. They stood at once, fetching their knives and bows, getting them ready for battle.

Within moments, we were in formation.

Quickly we made our way through the pass. We scattered and made our way across the boulder field. At that point, we could hear the sounds of battle.

Lainethir was livid. He strode up to us as we reached the trees. Condir was at his heels. "What is your business here, Thranduilion? I gave you a direct order."

"That was before the orcs got reinforcements," I replied. "We can either fight with you here, or wait for the orcs to make it into our camp. They will overrun you if you fight alone. Together perhaps we'll stand a chance." I met his eye and did not back down.

He gazed at me for a long moment, then looked away. "It is as you say," he admitted after a moment. "We hadn't anticipated the second wave of orcs. Our archers are almost out of arrows."

"We've come to fight," I insisted. Lainethir avoided my gaze, but finally nodded.

"Thank you," I said, bowing hastily. The formation broke, and my warriors hurried to the trees. Doron stayed behind, looking miserable. "Doron, come with me," I commanded. Doron nodded mutely and came towards me. Trusting that he would follow, I ran to a large oak and climbed to the ropes. I could see my men making their way to the south edge of the woods. Without being told, they spread out two to a tree. The broad branches of the trees would give us solid footing to shoot from. Two in a tree would allow my warriors to cover each other in battle.

We clambered into position. The canopy was hot and the leaves were still. No wind blew to take away the warmth. When all of my men were in position, I took a moment to look for the enemy.

Down below me was the edge of the meadow. A goodly number of orcs had fallen into the late summer grass, with brightly fletched arrows protruding from their bodies. Directly beneath me, I could hear the shuffle and the clang of metal against metal as the ground troops fought to keep the orcs from gaining ground. The battlefield was hot, and rife with the grunts of soldiers fighting, the cries of the wounded. The rhythmic singing of the cicadas in the trees were oddly juxtaposed to the carnage below. Of the new group of orcs I could see nothing, but I could hear their clumsy thrashing through the woods below the meadow.

I looked up and down the line. Doron was beside me. His face was pale and drawn. "Are you with me?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not ready for this Legolas. I want to be, but I'm not."

"Stand near the trunk and shoot when you're ready," I replied. Doron nodded and moved into position.

Berellin and Tirgon were situated in a tree to my left. Beyond them were Orothador and Seron. I closed my eyes and tried to listen for the rest of the warriors, but I was too tense.

I waited until I was fairly sure everyone was in his place. "Breathe together!" I cried, "and sing!" I closed my eyes and began breathing, listening for the breath of others nearby.

"I can't do it, Legolas!" cried Doron. "I'm not ready! They are coming and I'm not ready!"

"Look at me," I commanded. I met Doron's panicked gaze. "You could not fight as a Sindar because you are not Sindar. You are Laegren and you will fight today from your heart. Stay with me, Doron, and breathe!"

Doron stared at me. His eyes never left my face. I breathed deeply, trying to encourage him to join me, while tying myself to the breathing of others. For a moment, I thought that it could not be done, but then Doron's breath echoed mine. As he joined with the others' breathing a look of relief swept over his face.

"Are you with me?" I asked again.

Doron swallowed and nodded. "I think so," he whispered.

I turned my thoughts inward and, closing my eyes, envisioned myself in harmony with the warriors, my warriors. Soon Orothador began singing the opening tone of the _uruvae._ I joined him. The sound rose, rich and full, filling the canopy with its resonance. I opened my eyes. A horde of orcs were advancing across the meadow, weapons ready. The singing stopped them in their tracks. I heard a roar of triumph from Lainethar's men as they used the opportunity to their advantage. We held onto the note as long as we could as we positioned ourselves to begin shooting.

The orcs did not falter but renewed their advance. There were so many of them I could not count their number. I listened for them, timidly at first, but then with greater confidence. For each spirit I found, I brought down an orc. It was like hunting: the seeking of the spirit, the shot, the release, but it happened much more quickly. At first it seemed as though I were floating, as in a dream. The darkness slid through me like a cold wind, trying to divert my attention. I concentrated, shoving it away to do my work. With each shot, a spirit was released and I could feel the joy and relief of the creature that I had unbound. All too soon, the number of arrows in my quiver dwindled, and I began to take stock of the shots that I had made. All along, up and down the line, the bodies of orcs lay thick upon the ground. And yet more came on.

Doron fought beside me. His fear seemed to have abated. He grasped his bow, and set his jaw, determination in his eyes. His arrows flew flawlessly to their destinations. After one extended volley, he caught my eye and smiled grimly.

Even with all the carnage, the orcs showed no signs of retreat. With every orc that fell, the horde became more enraged. Those with scimitars and crude swords surged forwards. The few archers among them made their stand close to the edge of the meadow and shot arrows into the canopy until they themselves became the fallen.

The Song swelled within me. I felt the presence of my warriors. The shooting of arrows made its own kind of rhythm. We were deadly. We were strong. Our arrows, guided by the presence of the orcs spirits rained down into the meadow. Every shot flew true. Many, many orcs perished.

I paused. I felt a ripple in the unity that bound me. I turned to look at Doron. He had withdrawn from the unity, from the rhythm and the deadly fight. I saw panic on his face, and a large orc arrow protruding from his shoulder. With a small cry, he looked at the arrow. For one tiny moment he held my gaze. Then he crumpled and fell from the rope.

I let go of my bow, grabbed the rope with both hands and swung down. Dangling in the air for a moment to get my bearings, I dropped to the ground. The next instant, my knives were in my hands. The first orc attacked almost immediately. He was bony and bent, whether with age or with pain, I could not tell. He swung at me wildly with his scimitar. My right knife sliced open his upturned arm from wrist to elbow. I stepped forward, and with my left, drove the blade deep up under his ribcage until it touched his heart. The orc fell heavily to the ground.

The next one came in from the side. My initial thrust went wide. I turned my hand and drove the pommel of my second knife under his jaw. His head snapped back and I was able to plunge my other blade into his body.

The orcs came quickly after that. I guarded Doron, hoping that his injuries could wait. I became aware that my other warriors had also dropped to the ground and were alongside me. Their knives flashed and swirled nearby. I almost caught a rhythm and then nothing. Then I felt it again. I listened for my warriors, and I could feel them listening for me. The movement captured our spirits, captured our bodies. It was the _uruvae_ in motion, in what it was meant to be.

We danced our way through the rest of the battle. Every move I made, I made knowing where each of my warriors stood. I knew where they were and what they were doing. We were strong fighting together. We covered each other and moved as one great animal with a single intent. We killed the orcs, and still they came on. We fought smoothly, fearlessly. It was like a dance with listening. Lethal energy unbound. We killed the orcs and we set them free. We fought until the evening light gave way to dusk and the dusk gave way to dimness. I saw Doron stir, but I could not go to him. I was caught in the dance of the battle and it held me, propelling me forward to move and to kill until there were no more spirits, no more orcs to free. Only after the press of bodies abated was I able to disengage from the powerful sense of oneness that had swept over me.

When I finally lowered my blades, I was drenched in sweat, covered with blood, breathing heavily. My arms had several small cuts where the enemy had gotten through my defenses. The fight had taken me and made me one with my people. I was a warrior. I was Laegren. I was invincible.

Orc carcasses lay thick around me, but Doron lay unscathed, save for the arrow. I dropped my blades and knelt beside him. The arrow had caught him high in the chest, just below the collar bone. It was bleeding slightly.

"Doron, can you hear me?

He licked his lips; his mouth was dry. "That was one hell of a battle, Legolas, and I had a great view."

"We'll find you a better view next time, I promise."

I looked up. Slowly my warriors were emerging from the forest. Seron came first, his bloody knives still in his hands. Orothador was right behind him. Brethilas and Talfil showed up a moment later. They looked hot, tired, and triumphant. As the crowd gathered around us, I could see some of Lainethir's men as well.

"What?" I asked, "Is Doron the only one hurt?"

"He's the last one on the field," said one of Lainethir's soldiers. "Your line was too tight to let many orcs through. We killed what few of them came round the ends, but our injuries were minor."

Halthor made his way through the crowd. "I called for a healer," he said. "He'll be here in a minute."

"Does anyone have water?" I asked.

"Here, try this," Cunnethril handed me a flask. "It's got a good size serving of miruvor in it."

I uncorked the flask and helped Doron take a sip. When I looked up, the crowd had parted. Thinking it was the healer, I bent over Doron. Silence fell over the warriors. I looked up again and blinked. A tall soldier with golden hair was making his way towards me.

"Ada!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet. I bowed formally.

"Legolas, you've been selfish. All that fighting, and you've left none of the enemy for us." But he was smiling.

"You've been here all along?" I asked.

My father shook his head, "My company arrived only a short time ago. When we found the campsite empty, we feared the worst. I led my troops up here to join the fight, but you and your men had things so well under control I decided it would be best not to step in. I've never seen fighting like that before, much less from Laegrim. How did you teach them to fight like that? "

I was speechless. I'd had no idea the King was watching.

Orothador stepped forward. "He gave us our minds, and our spirits, Thranduil. He made us proud to be warriors, proud to be Laegrim."

The two men gazed at each other, and something passed between them. My father lowered his eyes first, and nodded. He stood in front of me and carefully reached out and touched my shoulder. A Laegren gesture. "You have done well, Legolas, very well."

The King's company had brought fresh meat. Halthor combined his talents with the other cooks, and soon the rich smell of a hearty stew wafted across the camp. The soldiers had no problem celebrating their victory. They ate and laughed and told stories late into the night.

Shortly after the stars came out, Cunnethril came to where I was sitting with my men and tapped my shoulder. "Lainethir and the King would have a word with you." He took me to a smaller campfire, where the two leaders sat, deep in discussion. Cunnethril bowed and departed. I stood and waited nervously for the conversation to finish.

"Legolas, I'm glad you are here," said the King at last. "Lainethir and I were just discussing the merits of leadership. He is most anxious to have his company returned to him and I have agreed to restore the men to his command."

I felt as though I had been punched in the stomach.

"At ease, Legolas," said Lainethir. "Today's battle convinced me that your way of fighting has merit. I will allow your men to continue as you have trained them. They will be an asset to us all."

Stiffly, I bent my head and bowed. My father had told me that I would be under his command. I had no choice but to obey.

"Now, Legolas, if I were to give you another fifty or one hundred warriors, how long would it take to teach them what you taught Orothador's men? I'd like to put you in charge of training the rest of our Laegrim forces, but I don't want to overwhelm you. You would be captain of the Laegrim, and answer only to me. Do you think you could handle such a commission?"

My head snapped up and I looked my father in the eye. He was speaking with all sincerity. I loved my warriors and I would miss them dearly, but to train others to become warriors in the Laegrim way? I bowed again, but this time I was smiling. "It will be done," was all that I could say.

I visited Doron several times that evening. To remove the arrow, the healers dosed him with a miruvor and poppy extract, so that he stirred but did not cry out when they pulled the barb from his flesh. He lay unconscious for most of the night. When I finally prepared for sleep, I moved my bedroll next to his, falling asleep to the sound of cicadas, and the rise and fall of warriors' voices as they spoke around the campfire.

I woke in the darkness just before dawn. The camp was silent, save for Doron moving restlessly beside me. I sat up. His eyes were open and he was looking around.

"I'm here, Doron," I said, grasping his hand. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head and took a deep breath. "You know, Legolas, I killed my first orc today. Three months ago I would have been elated and proud and overjoyed. But it's not that way at all."

"How is it?" I asked.

"Sad, somehow," he said simply.

"I know what you mean," I said, thinking of the spirits that we had freed.

We sat in silence after that. I held Doron's hand until he drowsed again. Gently, I laid his hand on his chest. I considered going back to bed, but then another thought came to mind. Silently, I stood and made my way to the pass. I climbed up the shoulder of the mountain to the ridge where the great gnarled oak tree grew. Nimbly, I made my way high up into its branches, until I reached the very limits of the crown. I held on, savoring the gentle movement of the branches below me as the predawn wind blew across the pass.

The sky overhead was a great gray bowl. The moon was set, the stars had dimmed, and there was the faintest rosy glow on the horizon. The darkness before the day rested lightly on the woods. I turned my face to the wind, envisioning a time when they would be once again thriving and healthy and whole. The thought brought joy to my heart. I smiled and breathed deeply. Turning, I lifted my voice and began the sweet tones that would sing in the dawn. I sang and I sang and I sang.

_The End_

It has been a year and a week since I began this story, 52 chapters ago. For those of you who have journeyed with Legolas thus far, I can only say thank you. I have a special thanks for those of you who reviewed. Your observations, insights and reactions have been my inspiration and moved my muse to try new things. Special thanks also to Elfscribe, russandol, erulisse, aearwen, scarlet, and the rest of the lizard community.

If you feel like you still want more of Legolas, I'd like to encourage you to read my stories _Requiem, The Song of a Friend, Warm Bread, Dance in the Moonlight and A Tale from the Wilderland_. These were all written before Another Road, but they fit into the story seamlessly. They do happen many years after my story, but Legolas is still his wonderful self.

If you review this chapter, I'll be sure to write you back. I want to send you a personal farewell and thank you personally for your wonderful support.


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